Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Once upon a time — I’ve always loved stories that begin with ‘once upon a time’ — there was an ordinary precinct with a less Earthly consultant in the city of Los Angeles. At this precinct, one day unfolded much like the next, with phone calls and paperwork, accidents and murders. Every case was different, and yet every case was exactly the same. Now, I know what you’ll say. Of course, I think they’re all the same. I’ve watched every police case that’s ever happened on Earth. But humans really do repeat themselves a lot. It happens all the time. Even in Los Angeles, where the Goddess of all Creation had recently attempted to start a war with Heaven and the Devil had prevented it with a peaceful solution, very few days on Earth offered something truly novel.

And then, on this particular Friday afternoon, a light appeared between the walls of silver filing cabinets in this ordinary LA precinct. No one noticed. Some parents had already left to pick up their children from school and so weren’t around to see it. Those still at work were distracted by the possibilities and plans for the weekend ahead. They’d lost focus on the present hours ago, and so they didn’t see the swirling glow of light quietly forming amongst the filing cabinets. And when a small black-haired toddler emerged from that light, no one saw that either.

Even I didn’t see her coming. And most people assume I see everything.

Pen tapping in her hand, Chloe stared down at the open folder of forms in front of her. She avoided looking at the precariously stacked piles of folders crowding every other inch of her desk. She certainly didn’t glance at her phone for notifications. She was focused and determined to finish the paperwork in front of her so she could move on to the next batch and then the next until it was time to go home.

Her phone showed a half-charged battery and nothing else. No texts. No calls. Not even a tweet or a bizarre tag on an Instagram post that had nothing to do with her. Absolute radio silence from Lucifer for three days.

Chloe sat back with a huff and unlocked her phone. The silence wasn’t unusual. Three days of nonstop messages from Lucifer wouldn’t have been unusual either. Lucifer’s usual was being unpredictable, so no, the three days of silence didn’t worry her. It was the distance that came with the silence that had her worried. Lucifer had been keeping her at arm’s length for weeks — no, months now. Chloe tried to blame it on ‘The Sinnerman’ the way Lucifer had been blaming everything on his ghostly boogeyman obsession, but honestly… the distance had started months before Lucifer had ever been abducted. If she was being brutally honest, the distance had always been there and she’d just fooled herself into believing it wasn’t for a little while.

But being brutally honest felt too much like being cynical, so she shoved her discomforting fears aside and scrolled through their rather one sided text chain.

Wednesday 6:30pm
Trixie says hi

Thursday 9:04 am
No new case today. Just paperwork I assume you won’t help with

Friday 1:48 pm
How are you?

Her previous attempts had all failed to get a reply. Chloe thought for a moment and then snapped a picture of the unstable paper city growing from her desk.

I may have shot you once, but now I’m taking the bullet. This paperwork is killer.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Chloe muttered to herself and dropped her phone back on her desk without sending the text.

“Hi, Mommy,” said a bright voice.

Chloe startled and then spotted her ten year old daughter standing across from her. “Trixie.” She willed her heart rate to return to normal as she asked, “What are you doing here? Your dad wasn’t supposed to have to come back in tonight.”

“I know,” Trixie said. “He’s waiting outside. I just had to come in and get something that I left yesterday.”

Chloe’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t remember coming across anything of Trixie’s at work today, and her daughter wore a suspiciously innocent mask on her face.

“What did you leave?”

The mask cracked. “My English book?” Trixie said, her face now scrunching up into an ‘oops’ expression.

“Your English book that you were doing homework out of yesterday?”

“Yes, but it wasn’t due today,” Trixie insisted. Chloe raised her eyebrow and Trixie amended, “At least, not after my teacher said I could still turn it in on Monday.”

“You need to be more careful,” Chloe said. “Leaving textbooks at home is one thing, but things get lost easier at the precinct. Where did you leave it?”

“On your desk.”

Ella now walked up behind Trixie holding a thick file in her hand and wearing an equally ‘oops but let’s pretend things are fine’ expression on her face.

“No,” Chloe protested.

“Sorry.” Ella winced and laid the file on top of the one Chloe had been working on before. It was the safest place to lay it, but Chloe still begrudged the intrusion. “The forensics report for the Jarman case needs to be signed off before it goes into discovery.”

That was now six new files for the three Chloe had managed to complete today. “Great.”

Trixie pointed to the bottom of one of the stacks. “I think that’s my English book.”

“Yeah, and I think I see how it got left behind,” Chloe said. She poked Trixie’s side to make her giggle. “Mommy has too much paperwork.”

“I’m sorry,” Trixie said through her giggles. Then, she leaned forward to observe the tower of folders her book supported. She whispered, “Do you think it’s safe to remove the base?”

Chloe whispered back, “It stopped being structurally sound an hour ago. Destruction was only a matter of time.”

Trixie giggled again as Chloe shifted the top half of the folders. Trixie reached under and slipped out her English book without causing too much damage to the remaining pile.

“Now, that goes in your backpack and stays there until you’re back at school Monday, got it?” Chloe instructed.

“It’s going in right now.” Trixie swung her backpack onto the spare chair at Chloe’s desk (Lucifer’s chair, her traitorous brain supplied) and tucked her textbook into the main pouch. “See? All good now.”

“Good.” Chloe smiled. “Now, come give me a hug.” When Trixie wrapped her arms around her, she snuck in a kiss to her cheek prompting Trixie to stick her tongue out at her. “I’ll see you Sunday. Have fun at your dad’s.”

“Okay. Bye, Mom! Bye, Ella!” With a wave, Trixie disappeared up the stairs and out of the precinct.

“Aw, she’s such a good kid,” Ella said.

“Yeah, she is,” Chloe said, still smiling. “Forgotten English books aside.”

“Uh, speaking of.” Ella tapped the forensic report that now sat at the bottom of the stack. “That one still needs to be reviewed by tomorrow.”

Chloe sighed.

“I’m sorry, thank you, you’re the best!” Ella finished in a rush before dashing back towards her lab.

“Thanks, Ella,” Chloe called after her and began reshifting the piles on her desk so that she actually had a workspace again. How was there this much paperwork? She and Lucifer hadn’t even solved that many cases lately.

She and Lucifer hadn’t done much of anything together lately.

Don’t… but Chloe picked up her phone again anyway. She sent the image and text she’d typed earlier and added: Trixie’s homework was the first casualty. We found her textbook during an excavation of my desk. It was pointless. It was nonsense. But honestly? She’d happily send a thousand nonsense texts if it would finally prompt Lucifer to respond.

“Mommy!”

“Did you forget something else?” Chloe looked up again — but instead of seeing her daughter, her eyes fell on air. “What?”

Something small collided with her knee. Chloe turned her gaze down. A round faced toddler with strikingly dark eyes and messy pigtails clung tightly to her leg.

“Mommy, I flew!” the baby girl said. “Iflewuptoheavenbut… I… I got lost. Icouldn’tfindhim.”

“Okay,” Chloe said, gently. She’d managed to grasp ‘Mommy’, ‘flew’, and ‘lost’ from the toddler’s babbles but not much more. “It’s okay, here.” She carefully loosened the child’s grip on her leg and squatted down to be on eye level with her. “Did you get separated from your Mommy and Daddy?”

The toddler frowned. She flicked her deep, dark eyes — brown; Chloe could see their color now that she was up close — over to the desk in thought.

“No. Iwantedtogotoheaven but IgotlostintheSilverCity andendeduphere.”

“Okay,” Chloe said, still not understanding much. Trixie was far enough from her toddler years that Chloe’s babble-to-English translation skills were rusty. She thought the little girl had said ‘heaven’ but she couldn’t sort out any context that would make that word fit. Maybe she’d meant ‘haven’? Still odd, but it would make more sense.

“What’s your name?” she tried instead, but the girl only became more confused.

“My name?” she asked.

Chloe nodded. “Yeah, my name’s Chloe. What’s your name?”

The toddler fixed her with a disapproving stare. “Mommy.”

“Yes, I know we need to find your mommy, but I need to know your name first so I can help you.”

“Mommy!” The child stamped her feet. “Idon’twanttoplayagame,” she whined. “IneedtohelpTee.”

Even with her rusty babble translation skills, Chloe could sense the tantrum coming on.

“Okay,” she soothed. “It’s okay. Let’s just look around.” She stood up and scanned the precinct. Some officers milled around the coffee machine while others sat at their desks, each of them lost in their own work. Ella danced about the lab, twirling pipettes in her hands. Pierce sat alone in his office with the door closed. The interrogation room was open, but a defense lawyer fixed a cup of coffee like they were about to meet with their client.

Not a single look of concern or panic on any of them. Had no one noticed the toddler walk into the precinct? No one was questioning her appearance? Really?

Chloe squatted down again next to the child. “Who brought you here, sweetie? Did you come with someone?”

The girl ducked her gaze and squirmed in an extremely similar way to how Trixie used to squirm when she’d wanted to avoid getting into trouble before she reached school age and figured out how to lie with a straight face.

“Did someone bring you here or did you come here by yourself?” Chloe prompted. “You’re not in trouble either way.”

“Um,” the toddler said. “I flew here by myself.”

“You flew, huh?” Chloe said. “Did you fly on a plane?”

The toddler met her eyes then with deliberate intent and placed a finger on Chloe’s lips. “Shh, Mommy. Don’t say fly.”

“Don’t say fly? Why not?” Chloe whispered.

“It’s a secret,” the toddler said in what she probably believed to be a whisper but was really her normal volume with a little more breath in her voice.

“Oh, okay.”

Well, this wasn’t getting her anywhere. Chloe stood back up and held out her hand for the toddler to take. “Come on, let’s go check the front desk, okay?”

“Okay.” The toddler readily grasped her hand. “Why?”

“To see if anyone saw you arrive.”

“Oh no, Mommy. I landed over there.” The girl pointed towards the hall leading to the bathrooms and evidence locker.

“Well, we’ll just check anyway.”

Flora was at the front desk today. She shook her head when Chloe asked if she’d seen a toddler enter the precinct in the last hour.

“Are you sure?” Chloe asked. “You don’t remember seeing anyone bring her in?”

Chloe gestured to the toddler at her side, and Flora leaned over the desk to take a better look. A grin broke out when she saw the little girl.

“Well, aren’t you adorable,” she cooed.

The little girl grinned back and said, “Thank you.”

Flora laughed. “No, I’d remember the cutest thing I’ve seen all day. Her parents must work here and brought her in the back.”

“Maybe.” Chloe chewed on her lip. No one was sounding the alarm about a missing toddler though. If Trixie had wandered off this young at the precinct, Chloe would’ve been asking everyone about it within minutes. “Thanks, Flora.”

“Uh huh. Bye bye, cutie.” Flora gave a wave to the little girl which the girl happily returned.

“She’s nice, Mommy,” the toddler said as Chloe led her away.

“Yeah, Flora’s really nice. Do you recognize her?”

“No.”

So, maybe Flora was right and the girl hadn’t come through the front door. That left the following options: someone had snuck her inside and left her or she belonged to someone who worked here.

Chloe began taking the girl around to everyone’s desk. “Do you know this girl? Have you seen her around the precinct before?” A few people did a double take when they saw her, raising Chloe’s hopes — before a shake of their head dashed them again. Ten minutes swiftly turned into twenty, and no one knew who this little girl was.

Chloe knocked on Pierce’s door.

“What is it?” Pierce said. He frowned when he saw them in the doorway. “Did you have a second kid, Decker?”

Chloe rolled her eyes, not only because he was wrong but also because he was the third person to ask her that during her rounds. “No, I didn’t.” (Like she could’ve had a second child without any of her colleagues noticing.) “This little girl is lost, and I’m trying to find her parents. Do you recognize her?”

“What’s her name?”

“She hasn’t told me yet,” Chloe said but the girl spoke over her.

“Rory.”

Chloe glanced down at her. Huh. Rory. She wondered if that was a nickname for Aurora. She had fallen in love with that name years ago. Thankfully, she’d never told anyone that or her colleagues would really be wondering if this toddler was related to her.

Pierce walked over and knelt down in front of the little girl. In a surprisingly friendly voice, he said, “Hi, Rory. My name’s Marcus. It’s nice to meet you.”

Rory pointed to the Marine tattoo peeking out from underneath Pierce’s shirt sleeve. “Ouchie.”

Pierce looked over and smoothed out his sleeve. “Yeah, tattoos can hurt sometimes. Are you lost?”

“No,” Rory said.

“You’re not, huh? Do you know where your parents are?”

“Mommy’s right here.” Rory leaned back into Chloe and reached up to grab both of her hands.

“No, we’re trying to find your real mommy,” Chloe explained, but Rory just giggled at her.

“Silly, Mommy.”

Pierce raised his eyebrow and stood up. “Looks like the kid’s claimed you, Decker.”

Chloe tried to shrug this off like a lost toddler deciding it was better to claim a complete stranger as their parent than cry about a missing guardian was an everyday occurrence and not heartbreaking. “Well, I was the first person she saw.”

Pierce returned to his desk without another glance. “Call CPS if you can’t find her parents.”

He may have been her boss for four months now, but Chloe still found herself surprised by the abruptness. “Um, yeah. I will. Come on, Rory.”

As hot and cold as Lucifer sometimes.

Another twenty minutes passed and Chloe was no closer to locating Rory’s parents. She settled the girl at her desk with a bag of animal crackers (Rory had begged for them when they had walked past the vending machine) and contemplated what to do next. She wasn’t willing to give up and call Child Protective Services. Her stomach felt sick at the thought of this little girl being abandoned. Her parents must be here. They must be.

“Okay, Rory?” Chloe began. “I know you don’t want to play any games, but I need to ask you some really important questions. Is that okay?”

Crumbs tumbled from Rory’s hand as she stuck an animal cracker in her mouth. She nodded.

“Okay, good. Let’s start with your name. What’s your first and last name?”

The toddler’s shoulders slumped as she frowned. “Why?”

“Because it’s really important,” Chloe repeated.

“Is this a drill, Mommy?” Rory asked before holding another animal cracker up to suck on.

“A drill?”

Rory nodded. “Because I ran away by accident.”

Despite the cracker between her lips, the girl’s words were becoming more and more clear as she calmed down from the chaos of her arrival.

“You have a drill for if you get lost?” Whoever her parents were, they’d made sure Rory was prepared. “That’s good. Yeah, okay it’s a drill. So, what’s your full name, first and last?”

The girl swallowed her now very mushy animal cracker. “Rory Morningstar.”

The flicker of relief from finally getting some useful information to help this child was swiftly smothered by shock.

“Morningstar?”

Rory ignored Chloe’s shock in favor of noisily digging through her bag for another animal cracker.

Morningstar. That didn’t have to mean anything. It was an unusual name but it wasn’t unique to Lucifer. When Chloe had checked into Lucifer’s background, there had been other Morningstars that had popped up across the country. No relation to Lucifer that Chloe could find, but they did exist. Rory’s name could simply be a coincidence.

But her dark brown eyes and thick black hair escaping from her pigtails, her arrival at this specific precinct in LA, and the way she was now arching her eyebrow in a far too familiar way as Chloe continued to remain silent all made her gut scream ‘this is not a coincidence!’

What if Lucifer has a daughter? Holy shit, what if he has a daughter?

Chloe forced herself to remain calm and continued her questions.

“Okay, Rory Morningstar. How old are you?”

“Three!” Rory proudly — and correctly — held up three messy fingers.

“Good! Now, what’s your mommy’s name?”

“Chloe Decker,” Rory said with a pleased nod for emphasis on each word.

Chloe sat back in her chair. “Wow yeah, that’s my name. Good job.” Leave it to a toddler to say something so bizarre — or in this case so clever — that it grounded Chloe back to her senses. She had told the girl her first name of course, but Rory had pieced together the last name from conversations all on her own.

“But what about your mommy’s name?” Chloe asked again. “Do you know what that is?”

Rory gave her such an arrogant look of disbelief that Chloe was once again convinced there had to be a blood relation between her and Lucifer.

“You’re Mommy,” Rory replied.

Right. So, she was potentially Lucifer’s daughter, and she either couldn’t differentiate her caretakers from strangers (highly unlikely given that faces are the first pattern infants recognize) or who’d been through such a trauma recently that she found it easier to pretend a stranger was her mother instead of acknowledging the truth (terrifying).

“Okay, do you have a daddy?” Rory shook her head so Chloe continued, “What about a grandparent? Do you have anyone else that takes care of you?”

Rory giggled. “Auntie Maze.”

“Did you say Maze?” Chloe’s mind whirled. There it was. Proof that Rory’s last name wasn’t a coincidence. She knew Maze. She knew Maze. She had to be Lucifer’s — but how? How could he have a kid and not tell Chloe?

What if Lucifer didn’t know?

He must not know. He couldn’t. There was a lot he still didn’t tell Chloe, but there was no way he could’ve kept a daughter a secret from her. And given his sexual history, it wouldn’t be that surprising to learn he had a child out there he wasn’t aware of.

But how would that child know Maze if she didn’t know Lucifer?

Chloe shoved this conflicting evidence to the side for now and continued gathering information.

“What’s your telephone number? Do you know what number to call if you get lost?”

Rory promptly rattled off a string of all too familiar numbers set to an unfamiliar catchy tune. Chloe frowned as she finished.

“That’s my phone number. How do you know that?” she asked, but they were interrupted by a demanding shout.

“Detective!”

Both Chloe and Rory looked up as her confusing, too-many-walls-up, might-have-a-daughter partner barged up to her desk. Lucifer didn’t spare a glance at the toddler sitting in his seat, but he did register the towering mess of paperwork still covering her desk when he went to place his hands down and hit a solid surface much sooner than he’d expected.

“Right.” Lucifer pointed down at the overflowing stacks of folders. “I’m not here to help with any reports.”

“Shocker,” Chloe retorted.

“But I am here for your help,” Lucifer said with what he probably thought was a winning smile. “I want to sue the Sinnerman for identity theft.”

How he could fit that much absurdity into so few words was a continual source of astonishment for Chloe.

“Hm, well first, you would need to find a lawyer who would take your case, and second the Sinnerman would have to be real.”

A muffled thwap pulled Chloe’s attention back to the girl. Rory was now twisted around in the chair, her bag of animal crackers forgotten on the floor. She stared up at Lucifer and began whimpering ‘no no no no’ under her breath.

“Rory?” Chloe gently laid a hand on Rory’s back while Lucifer obliviously pressed on.

“Oh, he’s real alright, and he continues to offer favors around town like he can do it better than me. No one can do it better than me, but especially not on my turf. So, if he wants to continue taunting me from the shadows then it’s time for me to drag him into the light — and there’s no spotlight more terrible than court. Now, I already know a cutthroat lawyer, obviously. All that remains is for us to track him down and prove his real identity. So, what do you say? Ready to hit the case?”

“Lucifer!”

Rory had grown more and more upset as Lucifer spoke, and no amount of gentle soothing from Chloe had helped. As Chloe finally snapped at Lucifer, Rory hit her own breaking point. She bolted to her feet and shouted, “Michael’s bad! Michael’s bad! Michael’s bad!”

“What?”

Lucifer startled as well and finally registered they weren’t alone. “What is that thing?”

Rory pointed at Lucifer and continued to cry, “Michael’s bad!” Chloe tried to pick Rory up, but the girl was too upset to cooperate. The best Chloe could do was keep a hand on her back to keep the girl steady on the chair.

“Rory, it’s okay.’’

“Michael’s bad! Michael’s bad, Mommy!”

“Where did this infant come from?” Lucifer asked.

“That’s the ongoing question,” Chloe said. She reached for Rory again, and this time Rory turned into her and allowed herself to be picked up. “Baby, it’s okay. It’s okay,” she soothed through Rory’s shouts of alarm. To Lucifer, she explained, “She showed up about an hour ago and I haven’t found her parents yet. So, sorry I’m a little too busy for your ridiculous shadow monster hunt.”

“Mommy!” Rory cried.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re safe.”

Lucifer stared at the little girl like she was a terrifying riddle. His concern was a far cry from the disgust he normally showed around children. Did he recognize her? Did he already know about her existence?

“How does she know about Michael?” Lucifer asked.

Chloe blinked. Of all the potential responses he could’ve had to Rory, that one wasn’t even on the list.

“What are you talking about?”

“Bad Michael!” Rory scolded and flung out an arm when Lucifer took a step closer. “Go away!”

“I’m not Michael, you violent little creature. I am far too handsome to be mistaken for him.”

“Okay, hold on,” Chloe said. “Do you know who this is?”

“No,” Lucifer said, still eyeing Rory warily. “But she seems to know my brother.”

“Your brother,” Chloe said flatly. “You have a brother named Michael.”

“Twins, hence the infant’s misunderstanding.”

Chloe’s jaw tightened. Mm, what was that flaring in her chest? Oh, yep. Definitely anger. First Lucifer had a daughter, and now he had a twin he’d never told her about.

“You have a twin brother.” Chloe shrugged. “And what, you just never felt like sharing that with me?”

“Well, it’s never come up,” Lucifer said.

“Oh right, it’s never come up. Sorry that in the nearly three years we’ve been working together, I never thought to ask if you had a twin brother.”

Lucifer replied, “It’s not like Michael is ever on Earth, Detective. He despises humans.”

Chloe closed her eyes and counted to ten, something she’d had to do more and more with him recently.

“Which is what makes this infant recognizing him even more perplexing,” Lucifer continued. “Where did you say she came from?”

Chloe took a deep breath when counting to ten didn’t quite cut it. “I have no idea. She just showed up at the precinct this afternoon. So far, no one’s recognized her but whoever dropped her off must have told her to come find me specifically because she seems to know me.”

Rory had calmed down from her initial alarm and now eyed Lucifer as suspiciously as he eyed her. Slowly, she raised her arm and pointed. “No scar.”

“What did you say?” Chloe asked.

“Bad Michael has a scar,” Rory said.

Lucifer’s face morphed from suspicion to delight. “Oh, does he now? Where? Is it especially grotesque? I can’t believe Amenadiel never told me about this.”

“Mommy, he doesn’t have a scar.” Rory continued to point at Lucifer. “That’s Daddy.”

Lucifer jumped back in alarm.

“Oh yeah,” Chloe said with a fake smile. “She also said her last name was Morningstar.”

“Detective,” Lucifer said, eyes wide, “I think someone’s made a terrible mistake.”

Chapter Text

Lucifer charged through the lab door ahead of Chloe. “Ms. Lopez, there’s an emergency. We need your help.”

Ella turned away from her work bench and grimaced when she spotted Rory in Chloe’s arms. “Aw, still no luck in finding her parents?”

“Oh, we might have found one of them,” Chloe said.

“I am not her father,” Lucifer insisted.

Ella’s eyes widened. “I missed something.”

“I finally got her name.” Chloe sat Rory down on top of the center table. “Ella, meet Rory Morningstar.”

“Oh wow, seriously?” Ella asked.

She came around the table to see the toddler more closely. Rory, for her part, continued staring at Lucifer — a familiar response in people meeting Lucifer for the first time. However, unlike all those people who stared at Lucifer like he was the answer to all their desires, Rory stared at him like he was a complex puzzle she couldn’t work out.

“She does look a lot like you,” Ella said.

“Children are amorphous, underdeveloped worms. If they look like anyone, it’s a coincidence,” Lucifer said.

Chloe leaned down and tapped Rory’s knee to get her attention. “Hey Rory, is your daddy in the room?”

Rory nodded and pointed over to Lucifer.

“As if that proves anything,” Lucifer said. “I’ve heard her call you ‘mommy’ more than once already.”

“I’m Aunt Ella,” Ella said with a shrug and a modest grin. “Like two seconds after meeting her, no big. She’s just the sweetest thing.”

“Silly,” Rory giggled.

“No, you’re silly.” Ella tickled the girl’s stomach which caused her to twist and giggle more. Then, Rory pointed back to Lucifer again.

“Look, Aunt Ella. It’s Daddy.”

Lucifer growled and leaned in close in a way that was probably meant to intimidate the girl. “Stop calling me your father.”

Rory poked him in the face, narrowly missing his eye.

“Ow!”

“No scar,” Rory said.

“Look.” Chloe turned to Lucifer as he rubbed his face and shot daggers at the toddler. “I’m sure you’ve used every form of birth control in the book, but don’t you think there is at least a slight possibility that you might have a child you don’t know about?”

“No, I don’t,” Lucifer said. “Angels can’t have children. It’s impossible.” At her responding glare, he added, “I might be a fallen angel, Detective, but the biology is still the same.”

Chloe closed her eyes and counted to ten again. Was this one of his metaphors? A coping mechanism? Did he have a condition that made him infertile? Or maybe he’d had a vasectomy. Not that it was any of her business (except for now when they had an unaccompanied minor to identify), but why did he have to cloak every truth about his life in five layers of bullshit?

“It wasn’t a vasectomy, was it?” Ella echoed Chloe’s thoughts. “Cause sometimes those suckers can grow back and people aren’t always aware of that until suddenly, oops! There’s a baby.”

Lucifer threw up his hands. “Can we please just do a paternity test and put this matter to rest?”

Ella nodded. “Yep. Yep, I can do that.” She opened a drawer and began puling out sealed swabs.

Chloe had now counted to ten twice to tame her frustration. After confirming that Rory was stable on the table and not in immediate risk of falling off, she took a step towards Lucifer and said quietly, “Okay, so she might not be your child. But someone certainly believes she is because it is way too much of a coincidence for Rory to show up here at this precinct with your last name.”

“She might be lying about the last name,” Lucifer said. “I don’t know why we’re taking her word at face value. The infant’s clearly confused.”

“She recognized you,” Chloe said. “She is not confused.”

“She’s not?” Lucifer leaned towards Rory again (though he was careful to stay out of poking range). “Where is your mother right now?”

Rory broke out in a happy grin and pointed to Chloe. “Mommy.”

Lucifer turned back to Chloe in triumph.

“Okay, so she might be a little confused,” Chloe admitted. “But she didn’t walk in here claiming her name was Decker, did she?”

“Okay,” Ella said. “Who’s ready to get swabbed?”

“Gladly.” Lucifer marched past Chloe to sit on a stool. Ella finished slipping on gloves and then opened a swab.

“Ready? Now, say ‘ah’,” she said in a voice more appropriate for the three year old than for Lucifer. Lucifer rolled his eyes and opened his mouth. Ella swabbed the inside of his cheek and then capped the q-tip.

“I could’ve done without the baby talk,” Lucifer grumbled.

Ella shrugged. “Gotta practice for the kid.” She picked up the second swab and put on her bright, patented Ella smile for Rory. “Yay, is it your turn now?”

Despite the sunshine that naturally radiated from Ella, Rory frowned and twisted back into Chloe.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Chloe said. “Aunt Ella is just going to rub the inside of your cheek a little bit.”

“Un uh.” Rory shook her head and whined.

“You just saw her do it to Lucifer. It didn’t hurt,” Chloe said. But Rory kept her face buried in Chloe’s side.

“Here, you want me to do it first?” Ella said. “Here, you gotta watch. You’ve gotta watch me, you silly bear.”

She tickled the little girl and succeeded in pulling out a giggle and one eye peeking back at her. Ella faked a gasp.

“There you are! Okay, now look we’re going to take this q-tip and then we’re going to go ‘ahh’.” Ella swabbed the inside of her own cheek and then capped the q-tip again. “Ta da! It’s so easy. You want to try now?”

Rory had fully emerged from Chloe’s side now and looked more relaxed. But despite the smile breaking out on her face, she again shook her head no and pointed up to Chloe.

“You want me to do it, too?” Chloe asked. When the little girl nodded, she said, “Okay, but if I’m going to do it, then you have to do it next, deal?”

Rory gave a firm nod. “Pinky promise!”

Chloe couldn’t help but grin back. The girl was adorable and very, very charming. (Another possible point towards Lucifer being the father, though, admittedly, most toddlers were charming.) She accepted the offered pinky to shake on it and then sat down on the stool. Ella swabbed her and then moved over to Rory.

“Okay, you ready?”

Rory opened her mouth as promised. Ella swabbed the inside of her cheek without further issue.

“Yay!”

“I’m done!” Rory happily proclaimed.

“You are. You did such a good job!” Chloe said.

Rory beamed with pride and didn’t seem fazed in the slightest that only two of her three audience members had cheered for her.

“And for doing such a great job,” Ella opened the drawer on her desk, “I have a special treat for you.”

She walked back holding out a small Dum-Dum sucker that made Rory clap with glee.

From the other end of the table, Lucifer grumbled, “Why does everyone but me keep getting lollies?”

Ella heard and said, “Aw, I can get you one too, buddy.”

Chloe expected Lucifer to dismiss it once Ella held out the sucker, but no, Lucifer took it with a thank you and then said, “So, we’re done here, yes?”

“Until the results come back,” Ella said. “I can put a rush on them, but it will still take at least a day or two before we know if you’re the dad.”

“I’m not, but I do look forward to telling the Detective ‘I told you so’.” Lucifer shot a smirk to Chloe and then headed towards the door.

“Hey!” Chloe said. “Where are you going?”

Lucifer looked confused. “I thought we were done?”

“With the DNA test. We still have to figure out what to do with Rory.”

Lucifer looked even more baffled. “What to do with her for what?”

“She came here unaccompanied,” Chloe reminded him. “Until we can find a parent or guardian, she has to stay in police custody.”

“Police custody, yes?” Lucifer said. “Not police consultant, then.”

Chloe fought back the new wave of frustration. “The alternative is calling Child Protective Services and finding her a foster family until her relatives can be located.”

Where the idea of that made Chloe’s stomach twist, not an ounce of emotional response showed on Lucifer’s face.

“Wonderful, it sounds like you already have a plan and thus no longer require my presence. I’ll see you later, then, Detective. Ms. Lopez, please let me know when you’ve proven I’m not a father.”

“Lucifer!” But he was already out the door and pulling out his phone to search for the Sinnerman or to find a lawyer or to do whatever it was he deemed more important than a lost child.

“Unbelievable,” Chloe muttered.

Ella reluctantly spoke up, “I guess I can call CPS. It’ll take them a few hours to find a spot for her.” She gently tickled Rory’s arms. “You might be here for the night, kiddo.”

Chloe shook her head. “No, that’s not going to happen. Can you watch her for a second? I’ll be right back.”

“Sure.”

“Stay with Ella, okay?” Chloe instructed the toddler before chasing after Lucifer. She caught him on the stair landing where he’d paused to type on his phone.

“Hey!” She darted around to stand in front of him. He barely glanced up. “Do you not care at all that that little girl is about to get sent to a foster home?”

“Why should I?” Lucifer finished and slipped his phone back into his inside jacket pocket.

“Because she clearly has a home somewhere. Her clothes are clean. She’s smart. She’s well spoken,” Chloe said. “Someone’s been taking care of her, someone who must love her very much.”

“Then, find her parents. I thought that’s what you were doing,” Lucifer said.

“Right now, you’re the closest thing to a relative we’ve found.”

Lucifer laughed. “Hardly.”

Chloe pressed on. “Look, if no one shows up looking for her soon, she’s going to have to go to a foster home, and that’s only if there’s one available on such short notice.”

“Yes, it’s unfortunate,” Lucifer said, “but it’s also what happens when parents abandon their children.”

“She is not abandoned!”

That came out louder than Chloe had intended. She winced as the sharpness hit her ears. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, while her heart raced from the spike of adrenaline.

Lucifer focused more attention on her than he had in weeks which only infuriated Chloe more.

“Do you recognize the child, Detective?”

“No, of course not. I’ve never seen her before,” Chloe said, but she knew what he was implying. She was taking this personally like she had an attachment to this child. And maybe she was attached to this child. Maybe it was because she had a child of her own or maybe because Rory clung to her and called her ‘Mommy’ after only an hour — but that made sense! She was human, after all. Anyone would be instantly attached to the little girl after that.

(And yes, maybe all those questions if she’d had a second child made her notice how similar Rory looked to Trixie at that age, and that realization broke her heart because she couldn’t bear the idea of Trixie being separated from her this young. She already had to deal with nightmares of her daughter being kidnapped, but losing her forever? Unimaginable.)

Lucifer continued to watch her as if this all played out on her face for him to read. Or he could’ve simply been waiting for her to change her mind and dismiss him. Chloe really couldn’t tell. His own expression gave away nothing.

Finally, he said, “Right, well, just in case you’re feeling some misguided obligation due to the infant’s name, let me put your conscience at ease. That child is not related to me. I am absolutely certain of it.”

“And I’m sure the DNA test will back that up tomorrow,” Chloe said.

Lucifer waited like he expected her to say something else. “Then… your obligations are lifted? You’re free to do whatever you need to do with the child.”

“Okay,” Chloe said. “Just one more thing.”

Lucifer heaved a sigh. “What now?”

“Give your written consent for me to take her home tonight if her parents don’t show up to claim her.”

“Why do I need to do that?” Lucifer asked.

“She says you’re her father,” Chloe said. “Therefore, you’re her father until the DNA results come back.”

“She also says you’re her mother. Write your own permission slip.”

But Chloe didn’t budge, and ultimately, Lucifer caved.

“Fine,” he grumbled as he followed Chloe back down to her desk. “But this better not be about tricking me into doing any of your reports for you.”

“Our reports,” Chloe corrected, “that you have never once helped with in our entire partnership, and no. This is about a three year old needing a safe place to stay that isn’t being trapped at the station all night.”

Permission in hand — however flimsy it might be — Chloe kept Rory at her desk as she finished what paperwork she could before the end of the night. She asked Flora at the front desk to let her know if anyone showed up looking for a three year old named Rory Morningstar and also called around to the other precincts to relay the same message while asking if they had any missing child reports. No one had a report matching Rory’s description.

“Where did you come from, baby girl?” Chloe said to herself.

She worried Rory would soon grow bored and restless at the precinct, but the girl seemed perfectly content to sit at Chloe’s desk and doodle on scrap paper with one of Trixie’s crayons. She rambled to herself as she drew. From the bits and pieces Chloe could catch, the girl was narrating a murder report complete with dramatic pauses and flourishes. At one point, she was certain Rory said, “And then Auntie Maze… sliced him with her knife!” but she really hoped she had misheard. After all, when Trixie was learning to speak, it had often sounded like she was saying ‘fuck it’ when she was actually saying ‘freckle’.

Unfortunately, the ‘sliced him with her knife’ part was particularly clear as Rory had raised her voice with the proclamation. What had Maze been teaching her? Better question, when had Maze taught her these things? How had she known about Rory and Lucifer hadn’t?

Maze wasn’t Rory’s mother… was she?

“Hey, Rory,” Chloe said. “Is Aunt Maze your mommy?”

Rory shook her head and grinned. “No, she’s Daddy.”

Chloe narrowed her eyes. “Oh, now she’s your daddy, huh?” Maybe Lucifer was right. Maybe the girl was simply confused.

The grin fell. Rory dipped her head back to her doodles and replied, “No.”

The sadness in that single word — too real and too deep for a child this age — snapped another piece of Chloe’s heart. Gently, she asked, “Do you wish Aunt Maze was your daddy?”

“No,” Rory repeated, though she squirmed in her seat and kept her gaze averted like this wasn’t the whole truth.

“You’ve had to grow up without a dad, haven’t you?” Chloe said. “I’m sorry.”

Rory chewed on her fingers that weren’t holding the crayon. She looked up Chloe.

“Is Daddy back now, Mommy?”

Lucifer. Was Lucifer back now. The same question Chloe had been asking herself for months ever since he’d left and come back married (that was immediately annulled with no explanations for any of it). Then left again (but was abducted that time; he hadn’t actually left). Then left yet again, on her birthday, no less (she had to consciously stop herself from fiddling with the bullet hanging from the chain around her neck). Was Lucifer finally back now?

Unfortunately, she didn’t have an answer for either of them.

“I don’t know,” Chloe said. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Rory didn’t push for something more concrete the way young children often did. Maybe at three, she already expected to be let down.

“Do you want Daddy to stick around?” Chloe asked.

Rory shrugged. Then, her sadness lifted as she grinned brightly. “I like Mommy,” she said in a way that was clearly meant to be comforting, but that only broke Chloe’s heart more. How often did Rory find herself trying to comfort the person who was supposed to be taking care of her?

The person who, it was becoming more and more clear, had left this tiny child all alone at the precinct.

“That’s good.” Chloe forced a smile in return — and then swiftly grunted as thirty pounds of chaotic energy jumped off the chair and into her lap to give her a hug.

“No, I love you, Mommy!” Rory said with all the gusto of innocence that stole Chloe’s breath away more than the shoulder digging into her ribs ever could.

“Thank you, baby,” Chloe said around the lump in her throat. “I love you, too.”

Of course, she said it back. Returning a toddler’s affection was rule number one of child care, but Chloe was pretty sure she would’ve said it back anyway. It hadn’t felt forced at all to tell Rory she loved her. The girl had well and truly stolen her heart in just a matter of hours. She was just… well, innocent. Joyful, loving. And way too smart for her own good.

And god, she looked like Lucifer. The eyes, the quirk of her eyebrows — even her smile matched. If Lucifer wasn’t so insistent that it was impossible for him to have a child, Chloe wouldn’t have any doubts about what the DNA results would say tomorrow.

“Okay,” Chloe gently pushed Rory away. “How about you finish your report while I finish mine, and then we can go get dinner. Does that sound good?”

“Yeah!” Rory held up her clipboard. “I’m almost done, Mommy. Look!”

“That looks really good! So well written,” Chloe praised the orange scribbles. Rory nodded in agreement. “Were you the arresting officer?”

“Mm hm,” Rory said. “And… and Auntie Maze bounty huntered.”

“Yeah, Maze is a bounty hunter,” Chloe said. Damn, this kid was well informed.

At six-thirty, Chloe called it quits. She set the folder she’d finished in the outbox (which was finally visible again on her desk) and turned over to Rory.

Or turned over to the empty chair that used to hold Rory.

“Crap,” Chloe whispered. She had just checked on the girl two seconds ago. Where could she have gone?

A flash of black hair darted over to her from the direction of the lab.

“Rory!” Chloe kneeled on the floor to meet her. “Don’t run off without telling me, okay?”

Rory nodded without saying anything. Chloe spotted the white stick peeking between her lips and put on a mock scowl.

“Who said you could get another sucker?” Chloe tickled the girl’s sides making Rory break into a giggle fit. “Who gave you that, huh?”

Rory mumbled something through her giggles, but the sucker muddled it beyond comprehension.

“What was that?” Chloe said, tickling Rory some more. “I couldn’t hear you, but it sounded like Aunt Ella gave you another sucker.”

She raised her voice at the end so her words would carry through the open door lab. Ella poked her head out.

“Hey! Don’t look at me like that.” Ella pointed at Rory. “Have you seen that little face? How am I supposed to tell her no?”

“Because she doesn’t need more candy. She needs some actual dinner — don’t you?” Chloe asked the little girl.

Rory merely giggled over her successful heist to obtain more candy. She was a toddler who was fully aware of her charms and how best to use them.

Just like Lucifer.

“Come on, you little con artist.” Chloe stood up and held out her hand. “You want to come home with me?”

Rory nodded and reached both arms up.

“Oh, you want to be held, too? Okay. Say ‘good night, Ella.’”

“Night, Ella,” Rory said around her sucker.

“Good night, sweetie. I hope we find your parents soon.”

Chloe took a detour on the way out to track down a car seat since Trixie was far past the age of requiring one. The department had a few that could be checked out when a call involved a young child that needed to be transferred. They weren’t the best quality but it would do in a pinch.

Rory wasn’t as confident in that. She assessed the car seat with a frown as Chloe installed it in the backseat and said, “That’s not my seat, Mommy.”

“No, I’m sure you have a different one, but this is the one we have right now.”

“But where’s my seat?”

“I don’t know, baby. It’s probably in your car.”

Chloe finished buckling in the car seat and turned back to Rory who looked deeply unsatisfied with her answer.

“I’m sorry, baby. I really don’t know,” Chloe said again. “We’re stuck with this one right now.”

Rory searched across the backseat like her car seat would be hiding on the floorboards. “Did it break?”

For someone who was satisfied with vague answers about Lucifer and her father, she certainly wouldn’t be satisfied with vague answers about a car seat. Chloe decided it was finally time to break out the lies.

“Yeah, it broke,” she said. “So, we had to borrow this one. Do you think you can use it until we get home?”

Still looking skeptical, Rory nodded and stepped back from the car so Chloe could pick her up.

“Wait, sucker!” Rory said and held up the half finished candy.

Chloe had planned on asking for it after she got Rory buckled in. Eating in the car was one thing, but sucking on anything, especially for a three year old, was a choking hazard if they had to make a sudden stop or turn.

“Do you not want it anymore?” Chloe asked, just to be certain what the girl was asking for.

“No suckers in cars,” Rory said, and Chloe raised her eyebrows.

“Your mommy taught you that too, huh?” Chloe accepted the sucker and placed it in the half full animal cracker bag Rory had abandoned hours ago. “That’s right, no suckers in the car, but I’ll give it back to you when we’re home.”

Rory nodded and allowed herself to be buckled into the car seat now. Though, she tugged at the straps afterwords and grunted in disgust.

“I know, baby. It’s not your car seat,” Chloe soothed. “But we’re going to make one quick stop at the store and then we’ll be home, okay? You won’t have to be in there long.”

Over the course of the afternoon, Chloe had learned Rory was potty trained, though she still wore Pull-Ups in case of accidents. Chloe would have to pick some up for tonight and tomorrow. She didn’t have a change of clothes, but that was okay. She could sleep in one of Chloe’s t-shirts tonight, and Chloe could wash her clothes in the sink so they’d be clean for tomorrow. Longer term, she’d have to figure out something else for the girl, but that all depended on the results of the paternity test.

What if she wasn’t Lucifer’s daughter after all? What if she was?

Truthfully, Chloe still thought the results would say he was the father. There were too many coincidences adding up to say Rory was Lucifer’s daughter — but also all those coincidences were circumstantial. Except for Rory’s last name. And that she recognized him. Yeah, that was pretty damning evidence. Even if the DNA test said Lucifer wasn’t the father, it was obvious Rory’s mother believed him to be.

But why had she left the girl at the precinct without speaking to anyone? Why hadn’t she taken the girl directly to Lux? Or at least had left a note with Rory. Geez, even babies left on doorsteps came with notes.

At least they did in the movies. Chloe wasn’t familiar with how parents abandoned their children in real life. Rory was the first unaccompanied minor left during her tenure as a police officer.

When they reached Chloe’s apartment building, Rory was relieved to be let out of her car seat. Chloe made a mental note to ask if they could buy some newer models that were more comfortable for future cases, though she knew it wouldn’t be considered a priority.

“Hey hey hey, stay with me,” she called out as Rory hit the ground and immediately sprinted for the stairs.

The girl paused and shot her an offended look.

“You don’t know where you’re going. You have to stay with me,” Chloe said.

Rory stomped her foot. “Yes, I do. I’m a big girl.”

“Yes, you are a big girl,” Chloe agreed. “But that’s a lot of stairs. You still have to stay with me.”

Rory obeyed with a grumpy pout. When Chloe asked if she wanted to be carried up the stairs, Rory firmly rejected the offer but did consent to holding Chloe’s hand as they walked up. The steps were wide but had no backs to them, and Chloe worried if Rory slipped, she’d fall through. Rory seemed to sense the concern and made a big show of walking up the stairs with much more motor control than she had shown with eating. In fact, she was so steady, Chloe thought holding her hand was hindering more than helping. If she had been the child’s mother and not a temporary guardian, she might have let go and allowed Rory to climb the rest of the stairs by herself.

But she wasn’t her mother, and she’d already made the questionable decision to not call CPS. She wasn’t about to allow Rory to get hurt on her watch.

Rory sprinted inside the apartment the second Chloe unlocked the door.

“Stay with me, Rory,” Chloe reminded her, but the girl was already climbing up the stairs to Chloe’s and Maze’s bedrooms like the climb up to the apartment hadn’t tired her at all.

“Rory!” Chloe dropped the bag of Pull-Ups and her keys on the kitchen island and raced up after her. The girl could move. She’d already reached the top by the time Chloe started up the stairs. She reached the landing and found Rory with her hand on the doorknob to Maze’s room.

“No, we can’t go in there,” Chloe said. “Here, let’s go back downstairs and start dinner.”

Rory ignored the offered hand. “I want to play,” she said and pushed open the door.

“No, there’s no toys in there.” Nothing appropriate for a three year old at any rate. Chloe rushed forward to pull Rory out.

The girl froze a foot inside the room. Her jaw went slack.

“Come on, baby. Let’s go get some food.” Chloe tried coaxing Rory back outside but the girl didn’t budge. “Aren’t you hungry? Let’s go get dinner.”

“My toys!” Rory exclaimed.

“I know, we don’t have any toys up here.”

“My room!” Rory spun in place. “Mommymytoysaregone! Someonetookmyroom!”

Chloe winced. She should’ve thought about toys. She was so caught up in the practical requirements to take care of a three year old that she forgot about the fun things. Of course, Rory would need some toys to help her calm down from this chaotic day.

“I’m sorry, but maybe we can go downstairs to my daughter’s room and borrow a toy. I’m sure we can find you something.”

“My room!” Rory stomped her feet. “Iwantmyroom!”

Large tears hung in Rory’s eyes, but they didn’t quite fall. She had the wide-eyed look of a child not only on the verge of a temper tantrum, but also on the verge of panic.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s not your room,” Chloe said. “But you can sleep with me tonight instead, okay? Do you want to come see my room?”

Rory viciously shook her head and stomped her feet again. “I want my room!”

“I know, but this room belongs to my roommate,” Chloe explained. “So, we need to let her have her space, okay?”

Rory screeched at such a high pitch and with so much volume that Chloe actually covered her ears. She’d be impressed if she wasn’t also growing panicked over how to calm Rory down. The tears ran down Rory’s cheeks now, and the girl continued to stomp her feet so hard, Chloe expected to see her trip to the floor.

“Maze doesn’t like people in her room, sweetie. We need to go back downstairs.”

“Auntie Maze?” Rory asked through her tears, and Chloe remembered that Rory already knew Maze.

“Yeah, this is Auntie Maze’s room. And you know she doesn’t like people in her room, right?”

Rory scanned the room again, gasping around her tears. “Auntie Maze stole my room?”

Chloe frowned. “No, this is where she lives.”

But Rory’s face screwed up with a fresh wall of tears. “Mean trick, Auntie Maze!” She stomped her feet. “That’s mean!”

She screeched on the final word and Chloe winced. That had clearly been the wrong thing to say. Not that Chloe thought there was a right thing to say in this situation. The poor thing was going to be confused tonight no matter who she was staying with. Where was her mother?

“Come on, baby girl.” Where her efforts to guide Rory out of the room had failed, she was able to pick Rory up and carry her out without issue. ‘Mean Auntie Maze’ stealing her bedroom seemed to have been the last blow the poor little girl could take. She sobbed into Chloe’s shoulder, utterly surrendered to despair.

“I know, baby girl, I know.” Chloe rubbed Rory’s back. “You miss your room and your toys. I’m sorry.”

Hopefully, Trixie would have something that could tide the girl over. Back downstairs, Chloe slid open the door to her daughter’s room.

“Here, let’s see if we can find you a toy. Do you want a stuffed animal to play with?”

Rory’s full volume sobs softened to medium level cries as Chloe turned on the bedroom light. She even lifted her head up to look around.

“IwantRogerBear,” she said.

“A bear?” Trixie had a large collection of stuffed animals to pick from. Chloe scooped up a white teddy bear from the top of the pile and held it up. “Do you like this one?”

“No, RogerBear! RogerBear!” Rory twisted herself so much Chloe was forced to set her on the floor to avoid dropping her. Immediately, the girl fell to her knees to search the pile of stuffed animals herself.

“Okay, let me help. Let me help.” Chloe knelt down too. “What does your bear look like?”

“Like Roger Bear!”

Like Roger Bear. Sure, of course. Like I have any idea what her favorite bear looks like.

Suddenly, Rory let out a new shriek, still high pitched but happier than before. She emerged from the pile of stuffed animals with something squished tightly in her arms.

“Roger!”

“Which one is it?” The grin on Rory’s face was worth whichever toy it was. It could be Trixie’s favorite and Chloe would simply beg for forgiveness later. But it turned out, she didn’t even recognize the light brown teddy bear with aviator goggles and brown jacket that Rory held up. It was likely a sign that her daughter owned too many toys if Chloe couldn’t remember one of them.

“Roger Bear!” Rory triumphantly repeated.

“Yay, we found him!” Chloe cheered.

“She, Mommy,” Rory corrected.

“Oh, my mistake,” Chloe said. “Do you have a pilot bear like that at home?”

Rory grinned. “She flies like me.”

“Yeah, she does fly. Did you fly on a plane to get here, too?”

Chloe had hoped to sneak more information out of the girl, but she was soundly and immediately denied when Rory replied with a simple ‘no’ as she hugged the teddy bear.

“Why did you name her Roger?” Chloe asked, instead.

“Because she says ‘roger roger’, remember?” Rory said, holding up her hand to her face like she was speaking into a phone — or a radio like planes use.

“Wow!” Chloe was genuinely impressed at this knowledge. “That’s a really good name for her, then.”

This little girl was smart for her age. Her mother had done an excellent job raising her. So then, why had she left Rory at the police station all alone?

Chloe didn’t have answers to that question no matter how many times she thought about it. She settled for standing up and asking the little girl, “Okay, are you hungry for dinner now?”

“Yes!” Rory cheered, dragging out the ‘s’.

“What would you like?” Chloe asked. “I can make peanut butter and jelly or I think I have some chicken nuggets.”

“Nuggies!”

“Okay, chicken nuggets it is.”

She led Rory into the kitchen and prepped the oven. When she pulled the bag of frozen chicken out, she winced.

“It’s actually chicken fries. Is that still okay?” Toddlers could be such picky eaters sometimes. Trixie had never had issues with food, only her penchant for all things chocolate causing problems sometimes, but one of Trixie’s cousins had been so sensitive to foods that he would only eat Cheetos and Pedialyte until he was six.

Thankfully, Rory seemed equally thrilled with the frozen chicken fries. “Nuggie fries!” she said with a happy jump in place. The teddy bear was doing its magic. She was much calmer and happier now.

It took a few minutes for the oven to pre-heat and then another few minutes to cook the chicken fries, but Rory was content to zoom around the living room with the teddy bear held up like an airplane while they waited for dinner. At one point, she dashed back over to Chloe.

“We’re flying!” she exclaimed.

“I see that!” Chloe said. “That looks like fun.”

Rory nodded. “It is. We fly really high! Like Uncle Meni.”

“Uncle Mini?” Chloe frowned.

Rory nodded again. “His wings are really big cause he’s really big.” And then she zoomed off to run more circles around the couch leaving Chloe trying to puzzle out who ‘Uncle Mini’ might be. Was that short for something? A nickname?

“Hey, Rory. Do you have any other aunts or uncles?” But Rory was too preoccupied with her make-believe to respond.

So far, Chloe had only managed to get names related to Lucifer, but surely she had family on her mother’s side. If Chloe could only get a name, she could start a search for Rory’s home and hopefully locate her mother.

She didn’t push the issue though. She wasn’t trained in child psychology, but she knew enough about interacting with kids in traumatic situations to know to let them share when they’re ready. She could ask questions but not demand answers, and she needed to make it clear she was on their side.

Which meant dinner was spent giggling and pretending to feed Roger Bear without dropping ketchup on it (but definitely smearing ketchup all over Rory’s face. The kid was a messy eater). There was a minor hiccup at the beginning where she requested a specific blue plate that Chloe, of course, didn’t own, but the girl settled for a normal plate and an old plastic cup of Trixie’s that Trixie liked to pretend she was too old to use anymore. In fact, Rory seemed a bit in awe of the cup belonging to Trixie, and Chloe wondered if she had an older sibling at home she idolized. When she asked, though, Rory simply said ‘Trixie’. Being so clever, she picked up on names quickly. Too quickly for Chloe to get any real information out of her.

After the messy dinner, Chloe suggested a bath. Rory happily climbed back up the stairs to get in the tub and managed to locate the bathroom door on her first attempt. The child had a strangely good sense of direction.

The bath was as messy as dinner. Rory was a splasher and thoroughly enjoyed submerging Trixie’s pool toys to the bottom of the tub and then flinging them back and forth to make waves. In fact, it took a solid ten extra minutes for Chloe to coax her out of the tub to get dried off. Rory also loved the t-shirt Chloe gave her to sleep in and wasn’t perturbed at all that she couldn’t sleep in her own pajamas.

“Mommy’s shirt!”

“Yeah, you get to sleep in Mommy’s shirt tonight.”

Chloe carried her back downstairs. It was late for a three year old to still be up, but Chloe didn’t hold any illusions that Rory would fall asleep quickly. The girl had had a wild day, what with getting lost (or abandoned), meeting a bunch of new people (including her possible father), and then ending up at a relative stranger’s house for the night.

So, Chloe got them tucked onto the couch, Rory half leaning over her lap, Roger Bear clutched firmly in her arms. She draped a blanket over both of them and let Rory select a movie. She opted for the Pixar movie Up based solely on the balloons. The girl seemed to have a slight obsession with flying, but Chloe guessed all children had their fixations. Trixie was enthralled with both Mars and ninjas. (Chloe couldn’t even blame the ninja obsession on Maze. Trixie had become obsessed years before they’d met her.)

The tears were long gone for Rory, and she stayed quiet as Chloe started the movie. But as the melancholy intro began playing, the girl looked around the living room.

“Tee’s not home yet.”

“Hm?” Chloe said. “Who’s not home?”

“Tee. Where is she?”

Tee…. Tee…. Who would that be? One of her aunts? Oh, no wait—

“You mean Trixie?” Rory nodded and Chloe continued, “Well, Trixie is staying with her dad tonight. She doesn’t stay here every night.”

Rory blinked once. Twice. “With her daddy?”

“Yeah, that’s right. Trixie is with her daddy.”

As Carl mourned the loss of his wife on the screen, Rory stared, unseeing, across the room.

“Are you okay?” Chloe asked.

“Tee’swithherdaddy.” The crack in Rory’s voice was Chloe’s only warning before the shrill cries resumed.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? What’s wrong, baby?” Chloe scooped Rory into her arms and tried to soothe her.

“Tee’sinheavenwithherdaddy!” Rory cried.

“What?!” The girl had definitely said heaven that time. Chloe rushed to reassure her, “No, no, no, Trixie’s fine! She’s fine, Rory. It’s okay.”

But Rory rejected Chloe’s attempt to hug her. She pushed herself off of Chloe’s lap and ran sobbing over to Trixie’s bedroom. Chloe chased after her.

“Teecomeback!” Rory struggled to slide Trixie’s door open. Any other time, Chloe would’ve wondered how she even knew to do that, but not tonight. Tonight, the question fell to the back of her mind where it would stay, forgotten.

“Rory.” Chloe reached for the girl, but Rory smacked away her hands and then smacked the frame of the wall for good measure. The poor thing was beside herself.

“Whyissheinheaven? IwantTeeTee!” Rory sobbed.

“Trixie’s fine. Her dad just lives a few minutes away. They’re safe,” Chloe assured her. What had happened to this little girl for her to assume someone was in heaven?

Oh fuck, please don’t tell me her mother died.

“Rory, baby, it’s okay. Trixie’s just fine.”

Rory screeched in disagreement. She gave up on Trixie’s door and ran back into the living room. She rounded the far side of the couch and flung herself into an unhappy ball like she intended to hide away from the cruel world.

“Rory.”

Chloe stood up to follow — but froze when a flash of white erupted around the toddler. She stared, her brain unable to comprehend what she was seeing. When the pieces finally coalesced into a picture, Chloe understood it even less.

Wings.

Large, white wings — feathers, there were feathers — grew out of Rory’s back and wrapped all the way around her huddled figure, completely blocking her from sight. Chloe struggled to breathe. Those were wings. Real wings.

No. Her mind scrambled. It had to be a toy of some kind. A gadget. It’s just a toy.

But what toy? Rory hadn’t arrived with anything but the clothes on her back. Trixie certainly didn’t own any pairs of white wings. Chloe had dressed Rory herself after her bath. She wasn’t wearing anything but Pull-Ups and Chloe’s old t-shirt.

But Rory had wings now. Somehow… she had wings.

Chapter Text

Chloe stared in shock for far longer than she should have with a still distressed toddler in the room, but she just couldn’t trigger her muscles to move. She didn’t even hear the little girl’s cries, to be honest. Her mind only looped on one thing.

Wings. Rory had wings.

Eventually, after several minutes (far too many minutes) passed, Chloe managed to take a leaden step forward.

“Rory?”

Her voice shook, and she mentally kicked herself for it. This was a frightened three year old who needed her help.

Then, what were the wings?

“Rory?” Chloe carefully knelt down when she reached the girl. She started to reach out her hand and then pulled it back, uncertain what would happen if she touched her. “Rory, are you okay?”

Her cries had quieted from crisis level to a sustained whimpering. Still balled up beneath her wings (her wings!), Rory mumbled something that Chloe somehow heard perfectly.

“I made Trixie go to heaven.”

“No, you didn’t,” Chloe said. She didn’t understand what they were talking about — she didn’t understand anything anymore except the fear that had taken root in her stomach. But as terrified as she was, Rory still needed her.

She swallowed and continued, “Trixie’s safe. No one’s in heaven. We can call her if you want, then you can talk to her.”

There was a shuffle that rustled some feathers, and then one brown eye peeked up at her from the gap between the wings. Chloe forced herself not to flinch.

“You can’t call heaven,” Rory said.

“Well… no,” Chloe said. Her head swam at the surreality of all of this. “But Trixie’s not in heaven. She’s here in Los Angeles, like us. She’s just at her dad’s house this weekend.”

How her voice could be that steady when she so badly wanted to run out the door was a testament to all her years of training for crisis situations. But during her time as a police officer, she had never, ever seen anything like this.

(Except that one night when she’d thought she’d caught a glimpse of fiery red in the corner of her eye and had become so thrown off balance that she’d actually shot her partner.)

The wings parted further to show Rory’s whole face. “Her daddy’s here, too?”

Chloe managed to nod. “Yeah, Trixie’s daddy is here in Los Angeles, too. Everyone’s fine.”

“I fixed it?”

Chloe had no idea what that meant, but she nodded anyway. “Yep, it’s all fixed. So, you need to put your wings away now, okay?”

“Okay,” Rory readily agreed. She shrugged and then suddenly the wings were gone — not disappeared with a poof gone. They had clearly retracted, but retracted to where, Chloe couldn’t discern.

“Okay.” Chloe released her breath. The toddler was just a toddler again, but Chloe couldn’t shake off her uneasiness as easily as Rory had shaken off the wings. “Good job, baby.”

Chloe tentatively placed her hand on the child’s back. She felt nothing beneath the fabric of the shirt. No toy, no gadget. It was just an ordinary back.

“Does it hurt?” Chloe asked without thinking. “Are you okay?”

Rory blinked and then looked behind her. “Hurt what, Mommy?”

Don’t gaslight me, kid. I know what I saw. But Chloe switched to wiping away Rory’s last few tears.

“Are you okay?” she asked again.

“IsTrixienotsadanymore? DidIreallyfixit?”

“Yeah, Trixie’s not sad,” Chloe said. “She’s completely safe and happy.”

Cheeks still glistening from crying, Rory broke into a toothy grin that would’ve melted Chloe’s heart an hour ago. Instead, she tensed and abruptly stood up.

“We need to get you dressed.”

“It’s bedtime, Mommy.”

“Yes, but we need to go on a little trip first.” She’d brought the toddler’s clothes down to the kitchen after the bath with the idea to wash them in the sink while the girl slept. She plucked the jeans from the counter and returned to help Rory in them.

“Where are we going?” Rory asked.

To the one person who might be able to explain what had just happened.

“We’re going to see Lucifer.”

Lucifer huffed in frustration and wadded up another piece of paper to toss across the floor. It was so hard to make a plan and know which favors he’d have to call in when he didn’t have the first clue about where to look for the Sinnerman. He’d been working at this for months. To not at least have a hideout or a name was shameful. If only the Detective had agreed to help him! Together, they could’ve solved this within a week.

To convince himself he was making some sort of progress, he pulled out his phone and left another message with Maze.

“Mazikeen, you’ve made your point by ignoring my calls. Now, I need you to forget about whatever little human you’re tracking down and get back here. I have someone much more important we need to find and torture — and yes, because I know you’ll ask, I’ll pay you. Just hurry.”

He hung up. The task had accomplished nothing, and he was left even more unsatisfied than before.

“For fuck’s sake, how difficult can it be to find one human?” Lucifer exclaimed.

He plucked his sucker from earlier out of his pocket. Perhaps sugar could give him the jolt of inspiration whiskey had so far failed to achieve — though he didn’t hold high hopes for it. Given it was meant for a child, the sucker was both tiny and utterly devoid of THC. He popped it in his mouth anyway. Hm… he checked the wrapper for the flavor. Cream soda. Well, it didn’t live up to the name, but at least it was tasty.

He swirled the candy back and forth as he picked up his notepad again. Think, think! He was just as good at tracking down shady humans as Maze was. He knew what humans desired. But the sheet of paper remained stubbornly blank. All that came to mind were more punishments to dole out once he did manage to catch the bastard. Hanging them from the rafters by their toenails was always a classic. Why had he ever thrown it out of his repertoire? He recorded it just to have something written down.

A ding and slide of elevator doors announced someone’s arrival. Lucifer put his notepad and sucker aside.

“Finally, Maze,” Lucifer said. “You certainly took your time—”

He stopped when he saw Chloe walking off the elevator. Ordinarily, the sight would be welcomed, but unfortunately, she was holding the infant from the precinct in her arms. Somewhere along the way, the infant had been changed into a t-shirt about a dozen sizes too large, and her hair had been released from the pigtails to hang loose down her back.

Lucifer slumped. “You better not be here for a bedtime story,” he said. “That was a one time favor for the Urchin because I still owed her for the driving lessons you forbade me from giving her.”

“She was wings,” Chloe blurted out.

Lucifer blinked. Mulled the words over in his mind. Rejected them because ‘wings’ and ‘the Detective’ didn’t belong in the same world.

“What?”

“Wings,” Chloe repeated. “Large, white wings on her back.”

Lucifer eyed the infant up and down. The problematic creature did the same to him. It was still suspicious of him which suited Lucifer much better than it calling him ‘daddy’. (He shuddered at the reminder.)

“That creature in your arms, right now?” Lucifer asked. “That has wings?”

“Yes,” Chloe said.

Lucifer laughed. “Well, that’s ridiculous.”

“No,” Chloe said, a sharp edge to her voice. She set the infant on the floor. “No, don’t you dare play that game with me. Not now.”

Oh, dear. She was more upset than Lucifer had realized. She had certainly seen something tonight, and whatever it was, it had left her furious. A tendril of fear curled out from the unease growing in the pit of his stomach. Lucifer did his best to smother it. He needed to tread carefully. The last thing he wanted to do tonight was discuss angels and Devils with the Detective.

Chloe spun away from him without waiting for a reply. She squatted down in front of the infant and said, “Show Lucifer your wings, baby.”

The baby in question flicked her baleful eyes up to Lucifer. He merely raised his eyebrow. This is your mess, infant. I plan on keeping my mouth shut.

The girl shook her head, and Chloe deflated.

“No, Lucifer needs to see them. You need to show him your wings.”

“Detective,” Lucifer began. It wasn’t like Chloe to insist on something she’d ordinarily call impossible.

Chloe must have sensed the concern in his voice because she snapped, “No, I know what I saw.” She stood back up and marched towards him. “And you— you who’s done nothing but run around the last three years claiming to be the Devil — don’t you dare call me crazy right now.”

Hands held up in defense, Lucifer said, “I wasn’t going to. But—” he raised his hands higher when Chloe clenched her fist —”if you’re talking about angel wings, then I’m sorry, but it’s impossible for that infant to have any.”

“Lucifer!”

“Angels were made fully formed as you see right now.” Lucifer waved his arms at himself as an example. “None of us have ever been a baby.”

Usually, it was safe to mention his celestial nature on the surface. The Detective would merely roll her eyes and move on. Not tonight, apparently. Chloe had sent many murderous glares his way before, particularly in the first year of their partnership, but none of them had ever crossed into feral territory like the glare she sent him now.

I think I may have fucked up there.

He braced for an attack -- physical or, more likely, verbal — but instead the glare cemented into a look of determination that in other situations made Lucifer’s heart dance with malicious glee because the criminal in front of them was fucked. Chloe turned and marched back over to the infant.

Oh my Dad, she’s going to torture an infant until there’s wings.

“Detective?”

“Rory, why don’t you want to show Lucifer your wings?” Chloe asked the girl.

The larva squirmed. “It’s against the rules,” she replied in a far lower volume than she’d used earlier that day.

Both Lucifer and the Detective frowned.

“What rules?” Chloe asked.

“Your rules,” the infant said.

“You made up rules for this?” Lucifer asked. What was happening right now? Was Chloe really concerned about wings or was this all invented as some sort of joke?

“No, I didn’t,” Chloe said. Then, realization washed over her face and she murmured, “Her mother.”

She turned back to the infant.

“What are Mommy’s rules for your wings?”

The infant narrowed her eyes at Lucifer again and then leaned closer to Chloe. “Only at home when no one is visiting.”

Ooph. The child wasn’t very clever if she thought that counted as a whisper.

“No exceptions?” Chloe asked, sounding a tad desperate. Lucifer’s concern grew.

“If you say it’s okay like at Aunt Linda’s,” the infant said in her halting and not-at-all whispered voice.

“Aunt Linda’s?” Lucifer repeated. Surely, he had misheard that. The infant couldn’t speak properly yet. Though, he was discovering its babbles weren’t all that different from the drunken slurs he’d hear from patrons downstairs at the club, and his ability to translate drunk to English was on par to none. Must be a different Linda, then. The infant couldn’t have meant the Doctor.

“If I say it’s okay,” Chloe said. “Good, well — it’s okay to show Lucifer your wings. I’m giving you permission.”

“She doesn’t have wings, Detective. She’s an infant.”

Lucifer was eager to shut this whole, bizarre situation down so he could return to plotting his revenge, and they could avoid crashing into territory he wasn’t prepared to deal with — but at his denial, the infant’s expression screwed up into a look of determination frighteningly similar to the Detective’s. The girl shrugged her shoulders.

Wings unfurled from her back. White, infant-sized, angelic wings.

The fury was instant.

Chloe stood up in triumph. “You see? I told you.”

Yes, he did see. Angel wings. White angel wings. On an infant of all creatures.

How did an infant have his wings?

His blood raged at this atrocity. It was clearly some sick, twisted play of his father’s. Oh, you don’t want your wings anymore? Here, I’ll give them to this human infant. Now, do you want to throw away your wings?

But no. Lucifer’s wings had grown back (over and over and over, with no solution in sight). The fucking reminders were still there, mocking him, while his Devil face was nowhere to be found. If this was a power play of his father’s, the message was unclear.

Lucifer slowly circled the child. The urge to shout and to threaten beat against his throat — but what would be the point, when he didn’t have his Devil face to inflict proper terror in the child? Because that’s what it would take to frighten her. The infant obviously wasn’t human. Those wings were all too real. No wonder the Detective had been so alarmed. Seeing divinity up close could scare a human to death.

(That Chloe’s immediate reaction to angel wings had been fear and anger made him grateful his attempts to tell her the truth had failed. He didn’t know why he ever thought it would be a good idea to prove he was the Devil to her. Of course, that would only go badly.)

But perhaps this wasn’t his father at all. Perhaps this infant-sized angel was his mother’s doing. Several months had passed since he’d sent her to her own universe. Humans liked to claim it had only taken God seven days to create the Earth. It hadn’t, but it hadn’t taken terribly long either. And with a Goddess all too eager to claim her own power? Well… who knew what his mother had managed to create over there by this point.

Careful to keep his distance, Lucifer leaned down to peer into the infant’s eyes. “What are you?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

The child defiantly held his gaze for an entire two seconds before she crumpled into a pout.

“Mommy!” The wings disappeared, and she darted back to claw at Chloe’s legs. “I want to go home!”

“No.” Chloe wrestled with the girl, trying to make her turn back around, but the infant wouldn’t cooperate. “No, you need to talk to Lucifer.”

She gave up on stopping the girl and turned her attention back to Lucifer.

“She has wings.”

“Yes,” Lucifer said. “She does.”

“Wings,” Chloe repeated. “Like real… actual….”

She hesitated on the next word. Lucifer kept his face neutral and refused to name it himself. This was the moment the Detective realized it was all real, and it would happen entirely outside of his control. All because a fucking infant with fucking wings decided to show up at their precinct.

“Angel wings,” Chloe finally finished in a hushed voice like she couldn’t bear to hear the words out loud.

Lucifer avoided showing any emotion. “Apparently.”

“How?” Chloe gasped.

“Angels were never babies, Detective. I told you that.” Sidestepping was always easier than answering questions directly, especially when he didn’t have any answer.

“But….”

Chloe looked so lost. Lucifer’s fear coiled tighter.

“You have wings too,” Chloe said, quietly. “You do, don’t you? Or you did? I… Your back… I’ve seen them. Your scars.”

Yes. She had seen those. Strangely, since so no one else had ever bothered to glance at them. They’d always had better things to look at when he had stripped naked for them. It was yet another one of the Detective’s odd quirks that later turned out to be blamed on her being a miracle his father had created just to screw with his head.

“They grew back recently,” Lucifer admitted. It didn’t erase any of the questions in the Detective’s eyes.

“You have wings,” she repeated. Then, her eyes hardened with a challenge. “Show them to her.”

“What?”

“Rory needs to see your wings.”

Lucifer desperately wished he had a drink. A tumbler of whiskey would be a perfect distraction in this moment. Hell, the sugary lolly would be a welcomed distraction. He considered moving to grab either one, to deny the Detective what she was truly asking for. He could kick both her and the infant out and avoid the situation until Chloe returned to believing he was too fond of metaphors and not the actual Devil.

This would’ve already happened if his Devil face hadn’t been stolen. Chloe would’ve already known he was the Devil, and they would’ve been long past this tense standoff. But when his face had failed him, that brief willingness to show Chloe the truth had swiftly turned into nightmares. Dreams of shouts and terrified eyes and gunshots. The worst of his dreams involved Chloe plummeting to her death after he revealed his true self.

After he revealed his wings.

Which was exactly what she was asking for now. The infant didn’t matter, not when the Detective continued to ignore the child’s pleas to be picked up and her gaze never left Lucifer’s. No ‘Rory’ didn’t need to see anything. Chloe did. And Lucifer couldn’t see a way out of it.

He swallowed. “Fine.”

Slowly, he inched his way to the middle of the room, positioning himself so that his back was to the balcony and the Detective was in front of him. At least this way when she ran, it would be to the elevator. One part of his nightmare wouldn’t be coming true.

I know this is your fault, Lucifer sent viciously up to his father before surrendering to the inevitable and unfurling his wings.

Chloe flinched. Lucifer felt it like a blade into his chest.

Otherwise, Chloe didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Seconds gathered and hung suspended in the air, waiting for the moment that she would say something to jolt time forward once more.

But it wasn’t the Detective who finally spoke.

“My wings.”

“What?” Lucifer broke from Chloe’s gaze. The infant stood in front of him, her whines now replaced by a scowl that was somehow more perplexing than her existence. Her tiny feet stomped the floor.

“You stole my wings!”

“What are you?” Lucifer asked again. But while the creature had passable verbal skills, she didn’t answer his question.

That wasn’t the important matter at hand anyway. Lucifer retracted his wings and returned his focus to the Detective. Chloe still hadn’t spoken, hadn’t moved. She hadn’t reacted at all yet beyond a slight widening of her eyes. Lucifer waited, throat tight, trying to read if that was fear or still just shock in her expression.

A small thwack hit his leg.

“My wings!” the infant scolded and then smacked him again.

“Stop hitting me!” Demon. This creature had to be a demon despite the wings and despite a demon baby being equally as impossible as an angel baby. Lucifer growled when the infant shoved him and took a step to the side to avoid her.

“I have to go.”

Lucifer’s head snapped up. Chloe had spun around and was already striding towards the elevator.

“Detective?”

The elevator slid open, and Chloe quickly punched the button.

“Detective!” Lucifer rushed over, not hearing the thwomp or ‘ooph’ behind him. “Detective, wait!”

The elevator doors slid closed without Chloe answering him. Without her even looking at him.

Lucifer swallowed. Well. At least, she had run for the elevator and not the balcony. A small reassurance. Minuscule, but he had to hold onto it for him to have any hope of her acceptance.

Just give her time. That’s all Linda needed. Give her a little time and then things will go back to normal.

A sharp squeal started behind him, long and drawn out and ramping up in volume the longer it went on.

Oh, no. No, no, no, no.

Horrified, Lucifer turned around to see the infant sitting on her hands and knees. Her face scrunched tighter and tighter as the squeal grew louder, and then the dam broke. The harsh squeal turned into even more ear-piercing sobs.

“Mommy!” The infant jerkily lunged forward but only managed to flatten herself to the floor. The thing screeched and then sobbed out again, “Mommy! Come back!”

Lucifer’s anger burst free. “Well, don’t cry to me! If you’d just kept your bloody wings to yourself, we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

“Mommy!” The infant pulled herself upright and ran (Lucifer dodged in alarm) over to beat at the elevator doors.

“Yes, go on! More than fine with me if you want to leave! I would’ve preferred to have never seen you.”

The infant was as inept at opening an elevator door as she’d been at whispering so Lucifer relented and pushed the button for her. She sobbed the entire long minute it took for the elevator doors to open again and then hiccuped in shock when they revealed an empty elevator car.

“Mommy!” The infant resumed her tantrum and sat back heavily on her bottom. “Mommy!!”

“Of course, the Detective didn’t stick around,” Lucifer said. “You’ve likely scared her off for good, now! You ungrateful banshee — she had taken pity on you because she thought you were lost, and this is how you repay her?”

He cursed to himself and turned to the bar to pour that drink he now desperately needed. One sip in, he felt a tiny fist ram into his thigh.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Lucifer growled in frustration.

“I don’t like you! You’re not Mommy!” the infant screeched.

“You don’t say.” When the infant continued to beat him, he snatched her arm and squatted down to her level. “Stop. Hitting. Me.”

A violent lash from her other arm knocked the whiskey tumbler from his hand. The perfectly good, though still not strong enough, alcohol splattered across the floor as the glass shattered.

“You filthy gutter rodent,” he began, but the brat wasn’t finished. She slapped him again and again, not bothering to aim for anything in particular, satisfied enough with hitting him wherever her thimble sized hands could reach. Then, she kicked him for good measure.

“Bring Mommy back! I want my mommy!”

Lucifer stifled the urge to kick the infant back and stood to move out of reach of the tiny, whirling limbs — but the redirected aggression put too much force into his jump backwards. His sudden movement threw off the infant’s momentum, and she kicked herself right flat to the ground, belly first. Her chin visibly ricocheted off the marble floor, snapping her head back like a basketball.

For a split second, the tears stopped. Silence reigned. Then, her face scrunched back in on itself. A low cry began to build, slowly at the start, then quickly ramping up to be as sharp and loud as before. But where the girl’s previous sobs were that of the bitter and tortured, these cries sounded like they came from a place of physical pain. Cautiously, Lucifer leaned down.

“What are you doing?”

The little girl didn’t look up. She didn’t move. She remained exactly where she was and simply cried. Lucifer spotted a drop of red on the infant’s hand where it rested amongst the remains of the whiskey glass. As he squatted down closer, he caught the same drop of red welling up on the girl’s bottom lip. Alarm shot through him.

“Why are you bleeding?”

The infant didn’t answer through her sobs. Lucifer wracked his brain. Was Chloe still nearby? She’d left the elevator and surely wouldn’t have stuck around Lux. Not by choice, anyway. Had something happened to her downstairs? Lucifer almost ran off to check, but the child’s tears held him in place.

It wouldn’t make sense, though. Chloe had never made another angel vulnerable before. She only affected him that way.

He picked up a piece of glass and ran it across his own hand. It didn’t harm him. Chloe was definitely long gone.

“What is happening?”

The ‘what’ in that question could apply to literally any part of the evening involving the infant. She didn’t make any sense! Everything from her existence to her presence in LA should be impossible. But here she was, bleeding. Which should also be impossible, and yet the cuts — while not life threatening, by any means — certainly existed and they were most certainly bleeding. They seemed to hurt, too, judging from the severity of the infant’s cries.

“That’s… okay.” Lucifer looked around the room, though he wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Probably the Detective who would understand what the infant needed, but that ship had sailed tonight. “Bleeding… we need to stop the bleeding.”

He reached out and, carefully, slid his hands beneath the infant who somehow felt even tinier than she looked. The girl allowed him to pick her up for all of one second before she registered that he was still not her mother. The fight returned to her, and she kicked and flailed in an attempt to get away.

“No, no, no, no, you’ve already hit the floor once,” Lucifer said, as he struggled to keep his hold on her. “Crashing into a marble floor again can’t be good for a baby angel who bleeds. If you’re even a real angel at all. Who are you?”

But the infant only screamed in response.

He set the girl on the couch, and she took the opportunity to slip away. Lucifer lunged and snatched her by the scruff of her too-large t-shirt and set her back on the couch. Then, he quickly grabbed whatever blankets or pillows he could find, starting with the couch and moving out to his bedroom. Each time he stepped way, the girl tried to run away too. Each time, Lucifer returned her to the couch and added another blanket or pillow to the growing fort around her. He also laid some blankets down on the floor beneath the couch for good measure. It wasn’t exactly padding, but it might minimize the harm the infant seemed determined to inflict on herself.

Eventually, around the twentieth time Lucifer had to chase her down, the infant gave up and flung herself back into the pillow barrier in despair. Lucifer took the opportunity to duck into the bathroom for a wet washcloth and bandage. The hand was easiest to address even with flailing limbs. Checking the girl’s lip, however, was impossible. A cut lip couldn’t be bandaged anyway, so Lucifer gave it up as a lost cause. He stood up, anxiety and fear churning together to give him a splitting headache, and stared down at the still sobbing toddler.

“Who are you?” he asked again. Then, he looked up at the ceiling. “Did you do this? Why? Why would you make an infant? She’s helpless and bleeds, Dad! Or did you not notice?”

Of course, his father gave him as many answers as the toddler had so far: none. Lucifer assessed the girl again.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do now?”

Chapter Text

Maze impatiently paced the elevator as it ferried her up to Lucifer’s penthouse. She wished she had another bounty to hunt down. Normally when she’d come home from a chase, she’d get this fun little warmth in her chest like she’d chugged a large beer. That warmth (which she had just recently identified as happiness) would satisfy her for a few days, sometimes even weeks, until she either needed money or needed to punch something. But this homecoming snuffed out all the pleasant feelings within minutes of arriving at Linda’s office.

Linda and Amenadiel were ‘friends’ now. Friends. Not acquaintances who only interacted when it was about Lucifer or a celestial crisis. No, they hung out now. Alone. Because they liked each other.

Maze wanted to tear the railing from the wall.

Of course, friends meant they’re fucking now, though they both looked awkward about it. Prudes. When the fuck did they start liking each other? This wasn’t some delayed sense of gratitude from Amenadiel slowing down time to save Linda, was it? Because Maze was the one who rushed her ass to the hospital while all the streets were frozen. She’d been way more worried about Linda’s safety than Amenadiel had been!

Fucking angels always stealing all the credit. Lucifer damn well better have a lead on this Sinnerman or Maze might throw her knife so hard it carved through every building in Los Angeles before looping back around for round two.

The image of a knife carving through every dumpy apartment building and skyscraper like it was jello was satisfying enough to take the edge off her anger. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall to enjoy the daydream better. The knife would cut through Lux first, of course. Just sever the building right through the middle before spiraling out to chew through more and more of the city. As the elevator rose, her mind sped up the knife’s journey. It was a cyclone of knives now, destroying everything and everyone who got in the way. The wreckage was brutal.

In her imagination, the sunny skies of LA faded to the inky black clouds of Hell. Maze grinned. Even better. It had been forever since she’d seen home. Everything had been so much more peaceful there. The slow snowfall of ash always drifting in the air… the rocky, craggy pillars that were fabulously dangerous for climbing… the sweet sound of tortured screams drifting from every doorway. She could hear them now, in fact: screams packed full of bitterness and despair, as rough and sharp as the pillars of their prison. Maze took a deep, relaxed breath. There was that pleasant feeling of warmth back in her chest.

“Mommy!”

Maze’s eyes flew opened as she realized those tortured screams were real and not a memory. No wonder it had been so easy to picture home. She hadn’t heard screams like that in years. Maybe Lucifer had managed to capture the Sinnerman after all. Her grin returned. Perfect. She wouldn’t have to travel again to work out her anger. Lucifer had provided her with a human-sized stress ball.

She flipped out her knife as the elevator opened. The afternoon sun glinted brightly off the penthouse furniture. Both the damned and Lucifer were out of sight, but the screams carried on nearby. The tortured soul sounded more hoarse up close as they continued to scream “Mommy!” in between their constant sobs.

“Wow,” Maze called out. “You’ve already got them screaming for their mommy. Hope you left some fun for me.”

Lucifer popped out of his bedroom. “Mazikeen! You’re back.”

The harried look of desperation caught Maze off guard. She reassessed her opinion of the situation. Clearly, the torturing was not going as well as it sounded.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Lucifer continued, confirming Maze’s suspicions. “I need your help.”

“Of course, you do.” Maze held up her knife. “Where is he?”

A shift in the sobbing pulled Lucifer’s attention to the couch. Alarm jumped into his posture, and he dashed forward with his hands raised. “No, stay! Stay up there! You’ll hurt yourself.”

But whoever was on the couch didn’t listen because a second later a tiny, crying human rounded the corner sobbing, “Auntie Maze!” before sprinting in Maze’s direction.

“The glass! Stop her, Maze!”

Maze reacted to Lucifer’s demands without thinking. She stepped forward and scooped the baby up before it could reach the shards of what looked to be a whiskey glass. The crying mess tried to curl into Maze, but Maze firmly held her out away from her body and refused to budge no matter how much the tiny human reached for her.

“What the fuck is this?” Maze stared at the creature. A baby, obviously. Human. Definitely not Trixie shrunk down; Trixie would never scream like this. That kid was tough as nails. This one was puny.

“A very good question,” Lucifer said, sounding just as haggard as he looked. “So far, I’ve come up with ‘a cruel prank’ or ‘an experiment gone wrong’ but it’s difficult to think with that incessant noise. I mean, fifteen hours she’s kept this up! Surely, she’d run out of tears at some point. Or stamina.”

The noise wasn’t as delicious now that Maze could see it was just a baby and not someone she was allowed to torture. Also the cries had quieted to whimpers since Maze had picked her up. It seemed even being held at arm’s length was better than whatever the little girl had had to endure on the couch (a mutilated blanket fort by the looks of it).

“Why do you have a child?”

“No, I’ve definitely ruled that out. The child isn’t mine,” Lucifer said.

Maze curled her lip in disgust. How had that thought even crossed Lucifer’s mind? It certainly hadn’t crossed hers.

“I meant who let you baby-sit? You hate babies, especially ones this young.”

The baby in question chose that moment to throw her whole body at Maze so forcefully that Maze nearly dropped her.

“Ugh, stop that!” She set the child on the ground and stepped away. The girl immediately burst into tears.

Lucifer smashed his hands over his ears. “Why did you make her cry again?”

“Because I don’t do clingy,” Maze snapped. She was entirely unbothered by the crying. The sharp, high-pitched sobs were soothing music to her ears, sounding all the sweeter because Lucifer hated it.

She continued, “And besides, I have something we need to deal with.”

“If it’s not the sobbing infant in front of us, then it can wait,” Lucifer said.

“But this is important. Linda and—”

Lucifer interrupted. “Trust me, my problems are far bigger than whatever Linda’s up to.”

“Fuck you! You haven’t even heard me out.”

The baby caught Maze’s arm midgesture and made a poor attempt at a kip to try and pull herself up. Maze growled and pried her off. “Stop that!”

“Be gentle with her!” Lucifer warned. “She bleeds.”

“No, duh. It’s a baby.”

“Yes, a baby angel!”

Maze stopped. Looked down at the grabby toddler. Looked up at Lucifer. “Is this a joke?”

There was just enough of a wild look in Lucifer’s eyes to make her think the problem might be bigger than she’d assumed.

“I’ve seen the wings myself,” he said. “And what’s worse, so has the Detective!”

A jolt shot through Maze. “Does she know?”

“Of course, she does. She’s the Detective,” Lucifer said. “She can piece the evidence together when her partner says he’s the Devil and then a child with wings shows up. She brought the child over as soon as she saw them.”

“What did you do?” Maze asked.

“Well, I thought she was lying, of course, or mistaken about what she saw, but then the little brat popped out the wings again, and it was game over.”

“So, it’s just the baby she knows about,” Maze said with a sliver of relief. That wasn’t too bad. That could be salvaged. This was manageable.

Except Lucifer’s expression took on a guilty shade of wary, and she realized the baby was not the only thing Chloe knew about.

“Lucifer,” Maze gritted out. “Tell me you didn’t show Chloe your wings.”

Lucifer huffed. “What choice did I have, Maze? The Detective insisted, and I couldn’t convince her I didn’t have any. She’d already seen the infant’s.” His volume rose as the child’s cries did the same. “Then, I guess it was just one pair of wings too many for her because she fled right after, leaving this vulnerable anomaly behind who will not! Shut! UP!”

He leaned over to shout those last words at the baby directly. Still crying, the girl turned a fierce glare towards Lucifer before bursting out said wings and swiping at him. Lucifer backed up, pissed, while Maze’s stomach plummeted. Those wings were real. And angelic. And white.

“Oh, shit.” She looked up at Lucifer. “You have a child.”

Lucifer pointed at her. “No, I don’t.”

But Maze’s shock was already dissolving back into roiling rage. “Well, that’s just fucking great. You managed to knock up a human. Amenadiel and Linda are ‘being friendly’ together, and now Chloe knows I’m a demon and is probably going to kick me out. Glad I can rely on my friends!”

She spun back to the elevator as Lucifer protested behind her. (”I did not knock up a human! The child is obviously not mine!”) Then, there was a sharp “No!” followed by the stumble of adult feet fading to the quick pitter-patter of much tinier feet on the marble.

“Keep her off the glass!” Lucifer shouted.

Maze growled again but turned around to crouch in front of the baby human sprinting after her. “Quit following me.”

The girl flung her arms around Maze’s neck and clung tightly. “I want Mommy.”

Maze grimaced. “I am not your mommy.”

She tried to tug the girl off, but the tiny toddler tightened her grip even further and whimpered, “No, Auntie Maze.” Maze looked up to Lucifer for help, but he was already absorbed in his phone. Yeah, he was really concerned with this problem.

“Hey! Get your mutant spawn off me.”

“The Detective texted,” Lucifer said, utterly oblivious to Maze’s snotty constraints. “We have a case.” He smiled in relief as he finally glanced at Maze. Her hand itched to grab her knife and throw it at his face. Especially when Lucifer dismissed her as unimportant once again and dashed for the elevator, clearly intending to leave Maze in the choking hands of an angel baby.

“What are you doing?” she cried out.

“This is perfect. The child’s never been so quiet,” Lucifer said as he punched the button to recall the elevator. “You can watch her while I work with the Detective.”

“Fuck that.” Maze stood up, the toddler still clinging to her neck, and cut Lucifer off at the door. “I don’t baby-sit.”

She shoved the kid into Lucifer’s arms as the doors slid open and then stepped back into the elevator.

“What are you talking about? You baby-sit all the time!”

“Trixie’s my friend. Not a baby, you ass.”

“Maze!”

Lucifer attempted to put the spawn down but the girl was also fighting to get back to Maze, and he seemed to fear dropping her more than he was eager to get her out of his arms. Maze smirked at the chaotic scene and slapped the button to close the doors faster.

“Mazikeen!”

Maze waved at him and then turned her hand around to flip him off. The doors slid shut leaving Lucifer once again stuck with the baby.

“Fuck.” Maze resumed her pacing. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Maybe Chloe wouldn’t freak out. Or maybe she would only freak out on Lucifer…. Oh, who was she kidding, of course Chloe was going to freak out. She was going to freak all the way out. She was way weaker than Linda.

“Shit!”

Chloe wasn’t home now. She was on a case; that’s what Lucifer had said. So, okay, Maze just needed to go home, plant herself in her bedroom, and call squatter’s rights. Then, Chloe couldn’t kick her out, and if she still tried, Maze would just reveal her demon face. Give her something to really freak out about.

Good. She had a plan now. She wouldn’t be stuck homeless (or worse, having to crawl back to Lucifer for a place to stay when it was his fucking fault Chloe knew what they were now). She would be okay.

Yeah. Of course, she would. Maze wasn’t going to let some weak-ass human chase her out of her home.

Chloe would never say she was relieved that someone was murdered (she could never be relieved over something like that), but she was grateful work had provided a distraction from her thoughts. Before the call, she’d been stuck at home running the same sentence through her head over and over and over again.

Lucifer was the Devil. The literal, actual Devil.

It was too much — far, far too much — to process, so when Pierce had said they’d needed her on a case, she hadn’t hesitated. Just grabbed her gun, grabbed her keys, and headed out.

…While texting the address to Lucifer. Chloe kicked herself. It had been autopilot! A mistake. A sleep-deprived grab for normal so desperate she’d forgotten for a second why things weren’t normal in the first place. But that second was all it had taken for the text to go through, and then Chloe had spent an agonizing minute debating if she should text again and fearing Lucifer would text back first.

She hadn’t. And he wouldn’t. Because he knew it was a mistake too. He knew she didn’t actually want him here. She couldn’t even see him right now. She didn’t know how to handle it.

Shake it off. Refocus. She needed to concentrate on their victim. He was the only thing that mattered right now. Not angels or wings or Lucifer being the actual fucking Devil —

Right. Their victim.

Joey Pillegi was young — way too young to die, and in a mob hit at that. What had this kid been into?

Or at least it appeared to be a mob hit on first glance. But first glances were deceiving. That’s why they had a whole forensics team taking pictures and categorizing the scene. Something didn’t add up. Ella said the victim’s legs were broken post-mortem. His expensive tennis shoes were still on his feet, and two more designer pairs sat brand new in the bedroom along with a wad of cash that had to tally in the thousands. If the mob had targeted Pillegi, they wouldn’t have left unmarked cash behind. And breaking legs was meant to make a point to a still living person or, at worst, a way to torture someone before killing them. There was no reason to break Pillegi’s legs after he was dead.

Unless the murderer wanted to make it look like a mob hit. Chloe scanned a rickety bookshelf of collectibles and DVDs. It was all mob related: Godfather, The Sopranos, true crime books focused on Al Capone and other old school gangsters. Who was Joey Pillegi? A mob superfan? Why would those even exist? And who had he pissed off in his fanboying? Had he been following one of the local mobs and seen something he shouldn’t have?

Or maybe he’d stumbled across some other crime entirely, and the perpetrator had looked for a way to shut him up while pointing the finger at someone else. The mob was an easy target with this collection of memorabilia.

A commotion outside broke through Chloe’s musing. She listened in case it was a family member or friend stumbling across the crime scene, but it sounded like the officer on guard was trying to direct a car away. Someone was attempting to park where they weren’t supposed to. She tuned it out and returned her attention back to the victim’s belongings.

Oh, no. Chloe’s stomach clenched as a new thought entered her mind. No, it was impossible. He wouldn’t have. He couldn’t be who the officer outside was arguing with. There’s no way.

She rushed outside to confirm. Her panic eased when she saw the officer talking to a silver van she didn’t recognize. (Not the Corvette. Not Lucifer. It was okay.) And then her panic raced into action again when Lucifer climbed out of the backseat of the van. Shit. No, that didn’t make sense. That didn’t make sense! She didn’t actually want him here.

There was some sort of struggle as Lucifer reached back into the backseat of the van.

What the fuck was he doing?

Rory. He pulled Rory out of the backseat. Double shit.

Lucifer grumbled and shook out his hand as he carried a very upset Rory past the crime scene tape. The girl was still dressed in Chloe’s old t-shirt and the same jeans she’d arrived in. She was also bawling her eyes out, much like she had the night before when freaking angel wings had suddenly sprouted from between her shoulder blades.

This was too much. Chloe couldn’t deal with this right now, and she certainly couldn’t deal with two angels at her crime scene, one of which might reveal her wings at any second and the other who was the literal Devil.

“No,” Chloe commanded as she marched over. “Get back in the car.”

Lucifer frowned. “You texted we had a case.”

“An obvious mistake. It was autopilot,” Chloe said. “You need to—”

But she didn’t get to finish that sentence. Rory flung herself at Chloe — truly flung, she’d even kicked her feet off Lucifer’s chest for extra leverage. Chloe scrambled to catch her.

“Don’t drop her!”

“It’s not me! The screeching monster has a mind of her own.”

Chloe’s first impulse was to shove the girl back at Lucifer, but then her mom instincts kicked in stronger. Once she had a hold of the girl, she adjusted her grip to carry Rory on her hip. Rory buried her head into the side of Chloe’s neck and held on like her life depended on it.

“What did you do to her?” Chloe asked.

“Well, I haven’t tried choking her yet, but it was a near thing,” Lucifer snapped.

Devil, Devil, Devil, her mind screamed.

Lucifer continued, “Believe me, even your patience would’ve run out with that endless screaming.”

“Sorry, you had such a rough night,” Chloe sarcastically replied. “Finding out you had a daughter you didn’t know about must be so hard for you. Kind of like some other secrets that are difficult to handle.”

“Completely different things,” Lucifer argued.

“How?”

“I don’t cry incessantly for starters!”

Chloe held her glare. She didn’t bother counting to ten. There was no need to reign in her frustration this time. Lucifer was at fault for this. He was the one who had lied to her for years. He was the one who’d purposefully kept her in the dark for years.

“You’re right. Finding out you have a daughter is completely different than,” — she glanced around for anyone in earshot and then lowered her voice to a hiss— “finding out your partner is the actual Devil.”

“I am not her father,” Lucifer insisted, completely ignoring the uncovered elephant in the room. He lowered his voice, too. “I have found out something disturbing about the infant, though.”

“You mean more disturbing than wings?” Chloe harshly whispered.

“Yes! She bleeds.”

Chloe was too tired to jump conversation tracks with Lucifer today. Why was he incapable of sticking to the one train of thought and instead always injecting the most crazy, nonsensical shit that wasn’t even relevant? It was like he had an entirely different conversation running through his head at all times instead of the one he was actually having.

“You know what, just go home,” Chloe said. “Take Rory and go back home. We don’t need you here, Lucifer, and you really shouldn’t have brought a three year old to a crime scene.”

Lucifer’s face fell. “But you said we have a case. I always help with your murder cases.”

“I said no!”

Chloe hated him for looking so disappointed and confused. She hated him for trying to manipulate her.

“Just go home.”

She attempted to hand Rory back to Lucifer, but Rory’s grip was like steel. When Chloe tried to force Rory to let go, the girl gave a sharp whine and dug her heels into Chloe’s waist.

“Seriously, what did you do to her?”

Lucifer’s confusion morphed to outrage. “Oh, because I’m the Devil, I must have terrified her with my evilness, is that it? Well, sorry to disappoint Detective, but I haven’t touched the child except to get her in the Uber and even then, she nearly bit my finger off.”

Chloe clenched her jaw at how unnecessarily loud he’d said ‘I’m the Devil’. Thankfully, no one bothered to glance their way, either because they hadn’t heard (unlikely; the street in front of Pillegi’s apartment wasn’t that wide) or because they were so used to Lucifer by now, they knew to ignore his odd outbursts (much more likely).

Keeping her voice low, Chloe replied, “She’s crying, and she won’t let go. You must have done something to upset her.”

“No, you did,” Lucifer said. “She’s been like this since you ran out and left her behind.”

The furnace fueling Chloe’s fury abruptly switched off. Without the burning anger, she felt the horror that had been lurking in the back of her mind since last night swell up. It took her over, sinking heavily in her gut and strangling her lungs. Except it wasn’t horror at Lucifer now. It was directed at herself.

“She… she’s been crying since last night?” Chloe asked.

“Without so much as a break for air,” Lucifer said. “I considered shoving a knife through my eardrums, but it wouldn’t have done anything.”

“You could’ve tried comforting her instead of thinking about yourself.”

Chloe could’ve tried too. She hadn’t even thought of Rory when she’d left Lucifer’s penthouse. She hadn’t been able to think at all after he revealed his wings. How could she? Everything she’d thought she’d known about the man had been tossed down the chute and pulverized into shreds. The universe didn’t work the way Chloe had believed it did. The Devil was real. Angels were real. Fuck, God was real and — terrible father or not — that was terrifying.

So no, Chloe hadn’t thought. She had just ran and ended up leaving a helpless three year old behind in the process.

“I did!” Lucifer argued. “The little monster refused to cooperate with me and instead chose to fling herself onto the floor and cut her lip open.”

“What happened?” Chloe twisted to look at the girl’s face. “Did you bust your lip, Rory?”

Rory fought her, not out of any animosity, but because she was so unwilling to loosen any part of her grip on Chloe. (Oh Decker, what did you do?)

“Yes, I told you. The infant bleeds.” Lucifer scoffed. “I mean, could that make any less sense? Wings on an infant and she bleeds?”

“Of course, she bleeds, Lucifer. Why wouldn’t she?”

“Because she’s an angel!”

“Shh!”

Again with the shouting and the being way too fucking loud about angels.

“Well, she is! Allegedly,” Lucifer added. “But angels don’t bleed, so what kind of mutant experiment is she?”

“Stop shouting that for everyone to hear!” Chloe hissed.

“Detective!”

He wasn’t being an ass, she suddenly realized. At least, he wasn’t trying to be. He was simply tired and desperate. He looked as shitty as Chloe felt, and she hadn’t had the painful backdrop of a crying three year old as she sat awake all night.

“Okay. Okay,” Chloe said in a placating tone meant to say she understood even if she didn’t at all. “But you bleed, too. I’ve seen it, remember?”

“Yes, but that’s different,” Lucifer said.

“Why?”

“Extenuating circumstances.”

Chloe rolled her eyes and returned her attention to the toddler in her arms. “Rory, sweetie, let me check on your lip, please.”

Rory reluctantly acquiesced, though she still didn’t lift her head off Chloe’s shoulder so the view was limited. Chloe caught a glimpse of where the girl had bit through her lip. It wasn’t bleeding anymore, but it still looked sore. Chloe’s heart broke.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Are you okay?”

Rory whimpered and tucked her face back into Chloe’s neck. There was also a band-aid stuck across the girl’s palm. Another cut?

“How badly did she hurt herself?” Chloe asked — and discovered that Lucifer had walked away from her.

That manipulative little fuck — pretending like he was actually worried about the girl! Chloe clenched her teeth and marched after him.

“Ms. Lopez!” Lucifer darted to the sidewalk where Ella had emerged from Pillegi’s apartment. “Ms. Lopez, please tell me you have proof I’m not the father.”

Ella shook her head. “Sorry, the results weren’t back yet when I checked earlier. But I can check again after we’re done here.”

“How long is that going to take?” Lucifer asked.

“Probably a few more hours.” Ella’s face brightened when she spotted Rory in Chloe’s arms. “Oh, you brought the kiddo?”

She slipped her gloves off to tickle Rory’s arm. Rory whined and pulled it away.

“Aw, not as happy-go-lucky as yesterday, huh?” Ella said. “I bet you’re missing your home now.” She looked at Chloe. “Still no word from her parents?”

“No, no calls yet,” Chloe said as she fought to keep her mess of emotions out of her voice. She couldn’t tell how successful she was.

“Bummer. So, uh,” Ella glanced awkwardly up at Lucifer, “you’re still thinking she got left at the precinct on purpose? Like at our precinct on purpose?”

“Stop looking at me like that. She isn’t mine,” Lucifer demanded.

“Sure, sure.” Ella nodded. “Or at least, we can’t know that until we get those DNA results back.”

“I am not the father!”

But Rory was an angel, Chloe noted. For the first time since arriving on scene, her mind flipped into case mode to reason things out. Rory must have been left at their precinct on purpose. Their suspicions were right even if the context was now different. An angel toddler showing up where the Devil worked couldn’t be a coincidence. They were connected, which meant Rory had been abandoned and left to Lucifer’s care, which meant….

Which meant, her mother wouldn’t be coming back. Chloe’s heart clenched at the realization. No one was coming back for this little girl. There had been no notes, no messages, no missing child reports, no frantic visitors begging the front desk for help. Rory had been left completely alone.

Chloe shifted her grip, prompting the girl to whimper and bury herself deeper into Chloe’s neck.

Almost all alone. Rory still had her.

Chloe interrupted whatever Lucifer had been saying. “Hey, Ella, can you let me know when the scene’s cleared? I need to help Lucifer with something.”

“Yeah? Is that something cute and small and clinging to you like a baby koala bear?” Ella asked with a smile.

Chloe chose her words carefully. “Yes, we still have some investigating to do with Rory.”

Ella nodded. “You betcha. I’ll make sure we get everything snagged, bagged, and tagged for you.”

She nudged Lucifer like this was a joke, but neither he nor Chloe understood what she was talking about.

“Eh? You see what I did there?” Ella raised her gloves up. “Purple gloves? Snag it, bag it? No?” She dropped her arms in disappointment. “It was a long shot reference anyway.”

“Text me when you’re done,” Chloe said.

“Will do.”

“And text me when you’ve cleared my name of fatherhood,” Lucifer said.

“Come on.” Chloe headed towards her car. Lucifer followed.

“Where are we going?”

“Home,” Chloe said, plan forming as she spoke. “I have some things to pick up.”

“But my Uber’s already driven off,” Lucifer protested. “Do you know how long it took to get one with a child’s seat?”

“I still have one from the precinct.” Chloe unlocked the back door and began trying to coax Rory to release her grip.

“Why does the LAPD have child seats?” Lucifer asked, sounding utterly baffled.

“For situations like this when lost children show up.” To Rory, she murmured, “It’s okay, baby. We’re going home now, but you have to sit in the car seat.”

It took a minute and Rory continued to whine about being separated from Chloe, but she did eventually allow herself to be buckled into the car seat. Chloe promised her over and over again that it would be okay, though she had no idea if it would be. Currently, she was making it up as she went. Once Rory was situated, Chloe straightened up from the car — and found Lucifer standing right next to her. Fear swept over her at how close they stood. She covered it up by ordering him into the car in a sharper voice than she’d used with Rory. Then, she marched around to the driver’s side without looking at him.

“The Houdini likes to escape her constraints,” Lucifer said, twisting in his seat to check the back.

Chloe took a glance in the rearview mirror. Rory was thumbing the straps of the car seat, obviously unhappy, but she wasn’t making an effort to unbuckle herself.

“She’ll be fine. She won’t have to be in there long.”

“Where are we going?” Lucifer asked.

“I told you, I have to pick some stuff up from my place. Then, we’re going back to yours.”

“You’re not trapping me with that thing again! She’ll just insist on screaming more.”

Chloe gritted her teeth. “She’s an angel, Lucifer. I somehow doubt her real mother will step forward and contact the LAPD.”

She probably saw her wings and — wait. Mother….

Chloe glanced at Lucifer. “Your mother… is she…?”

“In her own universe,” Lucifer said. “Literally. That isn’t a metaphor.”

“But Charlotte Richards…?”

“Is Charlotte Richards once again.” He shook his head at Chloe’s questioning look. “Long story, but I’m certain she doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

More headaches. More fear from all the ambiguity and outright secrets happening right in front of her face. Chloe shoved it away and refocused on what mattered: Rory.

“Fine. Then, if you’re going to take care of Rory, you’ll need supplies.”

“Detective,” Lucifer said, “I can’t take care of an infant. She breaks and bleeds and can’t walk properly on her own two feet!”

“She walks fine. Start making a list. You’ll need clothes and a car seat and toys—”

“Detective!”

Chloe took a shaky breath. “Trixie is with Dan until tomorrow night.”

“What does that mean?” Lucifer asked.

“It means I’m here until tomorrow night,” Chloe said.

Her heart raced. She couldn’t look at him. Half of her couldn’t even believe she was volunteering for this. Lucifer was the Devil. Rory was an angel — but Rory was also three and scared and alone. Yet, she had been perfectly happy up until the point Chloe had abandoned her at Lucifer’s. No matter how terrified Chloe was right now, she couldn’t let Rory down like that again. The girl didn’t have anyone else.

Lucifer didn’t push with more questions. He didn’t ask what her tone meant or what would happen after Trixie returned. He kept things to the present for which Chloe was grateful.

“What sort of clothes does an infant wear?” he asked, pulling out his phone.

“She’s size 3T.”

“They make training bras for toddlers?” Lucifer asked, sounding genuinely puzzled and not at all sarcastic.

“No! 3T means toddler size 3,” Chloe said. “It’s a regular clothing size that has nothing to do with bras.”

Lucifer typed on his phone while grumbling to himself about how using letters in infant clothing sizes was to blame for shows like Toddlers and Tiaras existing.

Chloe was going to kill him before tomorrow night, and it wouldn’t even be because he’s the Devil.

To say Rory was displeased when they parked at Chloe’s and did not let her out of the car seat would be a massive understatement.

“Did you have to stop at all?” Lucifer asked while plugging his fingers in his ears.

“Yes,” Chloe answered for the third time. “Rory, just stay in the car, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“Yes, I’ll be right back, too.” Lucifer lifted the handle, but Chloe snapped at him before he could push the door open.

“Stay here with her!”

Lucifer let the door latch with a huff and plugged his ears again.

Just have to cut and run. Drawing out the goodbyes never ends well with anxious kids.

So, Chloe did just that and exited the car without another glance to Rory. She heard the whines ramp up into heartbreaking sobs before she hit the first step, but she forced herself to keep going. She climbed up to her apartment as quickly as she could and then dashed through the rooms, pulling together what she needed for an overnight stay and packing it into a bag. Less than five minutes later, she was running back down the steps and getting into the car.

“Why’d you have me buy Pull-Ups if you already had some?” Lucifer asked when he saw the bag.

Chloe ignored him and reached back between the seats for Rory. “See? I told you I’d be right back.”

From the distressed whimpers and frantic stretching against the seat straps, Rory had not believed her. Her eyes and face were red from crying, but it was the lack of tears wetting her face that worried Chloe.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m coming with you,” Chloe reassured her. “And look, Roger Bear is too.”

She held out the aviator dressed teddy bear. Rory snagged it and squeezed it tight. She mumbled something Chloe couldn’t fully make out, but Chloe replied anyway.

“Yeah, Roger Bear will help, won’t she? We’re all going back to Lucifer’s together, okay? Just a few more minutes.”

Lucifer was eyeing Rory, too, when Chloe twisted around in her seat. It brought him within inches of her, and Chloe had to stuff down her surprise.

Rory. Just focus on Rory.

“Has she had anything to eat or drink since last night?” Chloe asked as she started the car.

“No, she was too preoccupied with screaming her lungs out to make any requests,” Lucifer said without rancor or blame. Still, Chloe’s anger flared.

“I think she’s dehydrated,” Chloe said. “She’s not crying any actual tears anymore.”

Lucifer hummed in agreement. “I’m surprised her voice hasn’t gone out as well.” Again, no emotion colored his voice, not even worry. It was like a three year old being traumatized meant nothing to him.

Because he’s the Devil.

Chloe gripped her steering wheel tighter and focused on getting them to Lux.

Her first concern was getting Rory to drink some water. Lucifer, of course, didn’t own plastic cups of any variety, let alone cups with lids appropriate for a three year old, but he did have some straws. Chloe filled a glass halfway with water and placed the straw in it so Rory wouldn’t have to tip the glass to drink.

Second concern was checking to see if Rory had had an accident over the last day. Neither her jeans nor Chloe’s t-shirt were wet, but her Pull-Ups had definitely been used. Chloe got her changed into a fresh pair. While it was good she hadn’t leaked through her clothes since the clothing Lucifer had ordered hadn’t arrived yet, it was yet another sign of how dehydrated Rory must be.

“Are you hungry?” Chloe asked. She wasn’t terribly surprised when Rory shook her head. It was a chore just to get her to sip the water. Once Chloe had lifted her out of the car seat, Rory had refused to let go. It meant Lucifer had had to help more than he probably would’ve wanted, fetching the glass and straw and tossing out the used Pull-Up that Chloe took no small amount of pleasure in handing over to him. Chloe finally settled on the couch with Rory on her lap, steadying the girl with one hand and holding the water glass in her other. Rory took the occasional sip when coaxed, but mostly she curled tightly into Chloe.

“Just a little more water, okay?” Chloe said. “And then if you’re not hungry, maybe we can take a nap. Does that sound good?”

Rory’s eyes already drooped with sleep, but the poor girl kept startling herself awake like she was scared Chloe would disappear again. Chloe’s stomach twisted in guilt. She hadn’t meant to betray Rory like that. This angel stuff was overwhelming. Chloe didn’t even understand what this girl was, let alone who she was — yet somehow Rory trusted her with every fiber of her being, and Chloe had let her down by abandoning her at Lucifer’s last night.

She glanced over at the man — the Devil — in question. He hovered uncertainly at the end of the couch, eyes fixed on Rory. His hair and clothing were still disheveled from his own sleepless night. It was a far cry from his typically pristine presentation, but that did nothing to humanize him. Because he wasn’t human. He was anything but, and, now that Chloe knew the truth, she couldn’t ignore it.

He terrified her. Rory did, too, still, but she was an innocent toddler. But Lucifer… Lucifer was no longer Chloe’s partner. No longer someone she trusted to have her back. He was a stranger. Alien, even. He had lied to her.

Except he hadn’t, had he? He’d said he was the Devil from the beginning, and somehow that scared her more. That he could still deceive her — deceive the whole world — by simply telling the truth. That she hadn’t seen the deceit. That she’d chosen not to see it, because it had always been there, hadn’t it? The callousness, the delight in chaos, the maddening terror he inspired, and the weird hypnotic hold he could have over people even when they didn’t want him to — the evidence had been there all along. Chloe had simply chosen to ignore it — because why? Because he’d listened to her at a time when none of her fellow officers would? Because she fooled herself into believing he was changing and growing as a person? Had she really been that desperate for an ally?

Chloe tore her gaze away from Lucifer. “Why are there blankets all over the floor?”

It was more than blankets. The penthouse was a mess: pillows, bedsheets, and duvets — more than she ever thought he owned — were strewn all over the couch and floor. The piano sat askew with the bench tipped on its side. She even thought there’d been broken glass around the bar, though she hadn’t looked too closely.

“Oh,” Lucifer said like he hadn’t noticed the mess. “The infant is curiously self-destructive. Even after she made her lip bleed, she still insisted on throwing herself down on the floor when I couldn’t magically produce her mother. I was… well, I was trying to prevent her from hurting herself again.”

Chloe frowned. He had attempted to take care of Rory. It had been clumsy and not at all the kind of care the girl had most needed, but Chloe could recognize he had made an effort. Still, Rory being able to bleed seemed like a strange thing to fixate on when the poor girl had been scared and crying and missing her family.

“You keep saying that she can bleed like that’s not normal,” Chloe said.

“Because it isn’t. She shouldn’t be able to if she’s really….” Lucifer trailed off like he couldn’t bring himself to say the word ‘angel’ either. It just confused Chloe more.

“But you bleed all the time.”

“Not all the time,” Lucifer argued.

“I’ve seen you bleed,” Chloe repeated. “I’ve made you bleed before.”

“Yes.”

“So, then why—”

The delivery of toddler supplies interrupted them. Chloe let the matter drop while Lucifer accepted the packages. She took another assessment of Rory and saw the girl creeping closer to accepting sleep.

“Now, what does she need?” Lucifer asked after they were alone again.

Chloe shook her head. “Pajamas maybe, but I don’t know if it’s worth waking her up to change.”

“Does she need a bed?”

“If I can convince her to let go.” Chloe was skeptical. The odds were better that she’d end up holding the girl the entire time she slept.

Lucifer showed her to a guest room. It was sparsely decorated, including a lack of clutter that filled Chloe with relief. She was well aware of the types of things that could be lying around from living with Maze. Chloe had not looked forward to clearing out sex toys to make room for the toddler — but her worries weren’t necessary. The room was simple and filled with typical bedroom furniture. The queen sized bed had black sheets on it and sat too high for a three year old to climb in and out of on her own. Otherwise, the room worked as a temporary sleeping arrangement.

“I can stay in here with her,” Chloe said.

Lucifer pointed over his shoulder. “I’ll just… clean up from her earlier tantrums, then.”

Chloe nodded. Lucifer hesitated for a moment like he expected her to say something, or perhaps he wanted to say something else. Neither happened, and Lucifer turned around and returned to the main room.

Rory woke up as Chloe settled her on the bed, but she quickly calmed when Chloe laid down beside her.

“You’re safe now,” Chloe whispered. “I’ll be right here while you sleep.”

Though it was only four in the afternoon, Rory’s eyes blinked heavily. In a few minutes, she was sound asleep leaving Chloe alone with her uneasy thoughts and the muffled sounds of Lucifer sweeping in the other room.

Chapter Text

The buzz of a text woke Chloe up. She blinked, disoriented, at the dim room she found herself in. Thin streaks of daylight bled through an incorrectly placed window. The bedsheets were black and added to the unfamiliar gloom. As Chloe shifted to sit up, her elbow bumped into a solid, yet tiny, body resting beside her.

Oh.

It was Rory. This wasn’t home (though, she had already deduced that much). They were at Lucifer’s, in one of his guest rooms. Fuck. Lucifer was the Devil, and she was in his guest room.

Panic failed to follow this revelation like it had earlier in the day. Her body wasn’t awake enough to react. Her head felt unbearably heavy, and it left the rest of her muscles thick and sluggish. Clearly, an unsatisfying nap on the heels of a sleepless, anxious night did not make for a good combination. Groggily, Chloe checked her phone. Only three hours had passed since she’d laid down with Rory.

Ella had been the one to text her. Joey Pillegi’s apartment had been fully processed. Bagged evidence was on its way back to the precinct, including several hairs, but they’d have to test to see if any of them could belong to the killer. Ella would know more later.

They’d also found evidence suggesting Pillegi had been involved in the Ferrante mob family. Quietly, Chloe called the precinct and had them put out an APB for the head of the family. The sooner they could question him, the sooner they could determine if this was a mob hit or if something else had happened to Pillegi.

Rory slept blissfully on. Cautiously, Chloe rose from the bed, but the girl didn’t budge. Poor thing. The sleepless night hadn’t done her any favors either.

Chloe twisted her phone in her hands. She’d volunteered to come back to Lucifer’s out of concern for Rory, but she hadn’t thought much beyond getting the girl calmed down enough to sleep. Now… now she didn’t know what to do. She could leave — the room, anyway; Chloe wasn’t about to scare the girl again by leaving the building. But what would she do if she left the room? Talk to Lucifer? That sounded as appealing as letting Maze use her for target practice.

(Maze who wasn’t her roommate, but a demon now. Had always been a demon, and wasn’t that a kick in the pants: all of her closest friends turned out to be creatures from Hell.)

Chloe dithered in the relative safety of the guest room for several more minutes, but she was too antsy to go back to sleep. She considered working on the case more, but no one had had time to pull financial statements or emails for the victim so she had nothing she could do from her phone. All she could do was pace and fidget and let her thoughts bounce off the too-dark walls until she was in danger of screaming and waking Rory.

Fine. She would go talk to Lucifer. It was time he answered some questions for her anyway.

The penthouse was quiet as she entered the living room. The sun hung low enough in the sky to shine parallel with the balcony. It cast the room in odd shadows, obscuring some sections while making others blindingly clear. The floor had been picked up, at least. Fluffy blankets were no longer lying in wait to trap unsuspecting ankles, and whatever glass had shattered by the bar had been swept up.

Lucifer sat on the far end of the couch, whiskey glass in hand. He took a sip as Chloe watched from the edge of the room. The setting sun darkened his features and made it difficult to read his expression. His eyes faced forward, though, staring unfocused at the space in front of him. He hadn’t noticed her yet.

Last chance to run, Decker.

Chloe clenched her fists to steady her nerves and forced herself to step forward.

“Hi.”

Lucifer glanced at her in surprise. “Hi.”

He stood up and took a step towards her before pausing. He hung there for a moment, indecisive, and then took a step back. Chloe hovered behind the piano, also unwilling to walk closer.

“How’s the child?” Lucifer asked.

“Sleeping,” Chloe said.

“Suppose she’d have to be for her to be this quiet,” Lucifer said. If it was an attempt at humor, it fell flat. Silence suffocated the room.

“So,” Chloe started but couldn’t finish.

Lucifer watched her warily. “So.”

“You’re the Devil,” Chloe finally said out loud to Lucifer, but the words felt thick on her tongue.

Lucifer’s wariness smoothed into an entirely empty expression. A void. The tone of his voice was just as blank as he answered, “Yes, I am.”

So many questions and accusations swirled in her head, thoughts that had been torturing her since last night. Why didn’t he tell her? What did he want with her? Why was he in LA? Why was he working with the LAPD? Why? Why? Why?

But the first question she verbalized was, “Is this what you meant when you left that message about telling me everything?”

“Yes.” The stoicism cracked, just a sliver, and Lucifer shifted his gaze. “I did try to tell you, Detective.”

“But?”

“But someone’s stolen my Devil face from me,” Lucifer said. “It makes it difficult to prove my identity without it.”

“What does that mean: your Devil face?” Chloe asked.

“It’s….” Lucifer struggled to answer. “Look, it’s difficult to explain when I can’t show you.”

Or he didn’t want to explain. Whatever a Devil face was, it didn’t sound good. Chloe remembered that flicker of red she thought she’d seen out of the corner of her eye once. She remembered Jimmy Barnes throwing himself against his prison cell in sheer terror at the mention of Lucifer’s name, beating his head over and over while the guards fought to restrain him. Had Jimmy seen this Devil face?

“When you made me shoot you?” Chloe asked. “Was that supposed to prove it too?”

“Well, I didn’t realize it would hurt me,” Lucifer said, so petulantly annoyed like being shot was a minor inconvenience, like it hadn’t terrified Chloe every time she’d seen him get hurt, like she hadn’t felt guilty for weeks when she’d been the one to hurt him.

Chloe shook her head. She couldn’t look at him anymore, so she turned around to take a breath. Then, another. So much she still didn’t understand, and her frustration was reaching a breaking point.

“You can’t…. This….” She fought to put the words together. “You have to stop pretending.”

“Detective,” Lucifer said, “I have never pretended to be someone I’m not.”

Chloe turned back around. “Okay, so you’re the Devil. But you can’t keep pretending certain things didn’t happen. You can’t keep lying. Just make sense and tell me the truth.”

“I’ve always told you the truth.”

“I shot you!” The bullet on the chain around her neck burned against her chest. She’d never gone to sleep last night so she’d never taken off the necklace. “I shot you and you bled and you’re still acting like that was a fluke. Rory bit her lip, and you treat it like this big, alarming mystery instead of something normal. Why?”

Lucifer wavered like this wasn’t the line of questioning he’d expected. Then, he explained, “Angels are immortal. Human weapons don’t hurt us — or they’re not supposed to.”

“Then, why do they hurt you?”

“It’s… a recent development, and it’s only under specific circumstances, so you don’t have to worry about that.” Chloe scoffed, but Lucifer continued, “The infant, however, shouldn’t be affected. If she’s really an angel, she should be just as immortal as one.”

Chloe didn’t take the diversion. He was using half-truths like he always did because he wanted to continue hiding. And over and over again, Chloe had let him, thinking he would tell her when he was ready, that he needed more time to open up. Well, not this time. Chloe wasn’t going to let him off the hook tonight, or any night, ever again.

Holding her anger like a shield, she marched forward. Lucifer stiffened, expression falling blank again, but he didn’t retreat.

“Why do you bleed if you’re supposed to be immortal?” Chloe asked.

“I told you—”

“No, you didn’t,” Chloe said. “Cause you’re right, it’s not all the time. Malcolm nearly killed you,” — (”Did kill me,” Lucifer interjected.)— “but Jimmy shot you multiple times and you were fine. So, what’s the difference? What causes you to get hurt?”

Lucifer shook his head, eyes searching the room like he could find a loophole to take, but Chloe held her ground. She stared and waited until he finally said, “You’re the difference, Detective.”

Chloe deflated. “What?”

“I become vulnerable when I’m around you.”

Slowly, Chloe shook her head. “No. No, that’s not it.”

Lucifer frowned. “Yes, it is.”

“No, I was there when Jimmy Barnes shot you. You didn’t get hurt.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Detective.”

“Tell me the truth!”

“I am!” Lucifer said. “This is the truth. I’m only vulnerable when I’m close to you. I don’t fully understand why, but that is the truth.”

It couldn’t be. It didn’t explain everything. There were still exceptions. It didn’t fit.

“Is this some sort of game to you?” Chloe said. “A way to manipulate me to get what you want?”

Lucifer frowned again. “Of course not.”

But Chloe couldn’t stop. “You know, I felt guilty every time you got hurt. I’m the cop. I was responsible for you on every case.”

“Hardly,” Lucifer scoffed.

“And you what, got hurt on purpose? Just to make me feel bad so you could keep coming around—”

“I’m not playing a game, Detective,” Lucifer insisted. “I am not manipulating you. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Right.” Chloe shook her head. “Which is why you never told me you’re the Devil.”

“I did tell you.”

“But you knew I didn’t believe you!”

“That isn’t my fault!”

A long sob cut through the living room. They both froze. A thump and then little footsteps padding on the tiled floor made Chloe turn around. Rory emerged crying from the hallway. Chloe’s first thought was the girl had become upset when she’d woken up to find Chloe missing. Then, she spotted the dark, wet splotches along the bottom of the girl’s t-shirt.

“Oh baby, did you have an accident?”

Rory nodded and cried harder. Chloe rushed over. The little girl immediately fell into her arms.

“It’s okay,” Chloe soothed. “Accidents happen. It’s okay.”

But the poor girl cried like peeing the bed was the worst thing in the world, like accidents never happened to her. And maybe they didn’t. But even without knowing what the girl’s life was like before she showed up at the precinct, Chloe knew this weekend was abnormal for her. Any change in schedule could throw a toddler off, but being bounced between multiple houses and left in the care of strangers? Of course there would be accidents.

“It’s okay. We can fix it.”

Chloe glanced back at Lucifer. He wore a mixed expression of puzzlement and caution. It was becoming his default expression around Rory.

She didn’t expect any assistance, but still she had to ask, “Would you be able to help?”

Lucifer gave a small nod. “What do you need?”

“Could you take care of the bed? I’m going to give her a bath.”

She braced for an argument, but it didn’t come. Instead, Lucifer just sighed.

“Not the bedroom mess I’m used to cleaning up,” he said. Then, he walked off to find clean sheets without further remarks.

That was one obstacle down. Chloe returned her attention to the toddler. “I bet a bath will make you feel better. What do you think?”

Rory nodded, though she continued to cry.

“Yeah, we’ll get you nice and clean, and then you’ll feel a lot better. Come on.”

Chloe stripped the wet t-shirt off the girl, and then picked her up and carried her down the hall to the guest bathroom. From her and Linda’s exploration back on her birthday, Chloe knew this was the bathroom with a tub. She was surprised to see a bottle of children’s shampoo sitting on the ledge. She’d told Lucifer to buy some, but she hadn’t realized he’d already put Rory’s new things away.

The bath did the trick. Rory stopped crying soon after getting in the water. By the time Chloe was through washing her, Rory was back to the same giggling and splashing toddler she’d been at Chloe’s place. Chloe let her play for awhile. She thought it was good for the girl to enjoy herself after the last twenty-four hours were so rough. And maybe she was nervous about returning to Lucifer. She still wasn’t sure where they stood, still wasn’t sure how much of the truth he continued to keep from her. It was easier to watch Rory.

But eventually, Rory’s fingers began to prune and the water turned too cold to stay in. So, Chloe drained the tub and pulled out a fluffy towel to wrap the little girl in. Rory was disappointed to leave the bath even as she shivered when the air hit her damp skin, but she giggled as Chloe played peekaboo while she dried her off. She danced when Chloe flipped the towel in front of her face and squealed when Chloe pulled it back. Chloe had to laugh with her. The girl was just so… three. She was very much a three year old through and through, and she was completely adorable. It was easy to forget the girl had wings when she acted this normal.

Chloe immediately kicked herself at this thought. Of course, Rory was normal, wings or not. It wasn’t her fault she was an angel.

Who was to blame remained a mystery even to Lucifer, apparently. Baby angels didn’t exist, he’d said. Yet, here Rory stood. There was no denying that. So, who was she? Where had she come from?

After stripping the sheets, Lucifer soaked up what he could from the mattress and then sprayed it with cleaner. For such a tiny creature, the girl sure had a large bladder. He left the clean sheets folded at the end of the bed. It would take time for the mattress to fully dry, and he suspected the infant would be crying for quite some time if the past day was any indication.

The Detective was still giving the infant a bath when he finished. With no other work to keep him busy, Lucifer found himself pacing the room. It wasn’t a steady pace. It was more of an awkward march filled with halts and stops to the bar, to the balcony, to the couch, the bar again. He hated the restlessness. The nervousness if Dr. Linda had been there to force him to put a name to what he was feeling — which she wasn’t, so he didn’t. Chloe’s words kept repeating in his mind: individually, together. They rolled over and over again as Lucifer tried to understand what they’d meant — not what Chloe had said. Lucifer had grasped that. But what she had meant.

Was she scared? Did she hate him? She was certainly angry but how much angrier than her normal level of irritation with him? Was her current reaction merely a cover for something worse? If the girl didn’t exist would Chloe even be speaking to him right now?

That last one was a pointless question. If the girl didn’t exist, Chloe wouldn’t have learned he was really the Devil. Why did that bloody infant have to show up? Who was she?

Lucifer looked up at the ceiling — at Heaven — and said, “If this is your doing, Dad, I will make you pay for it.”

Silence replied. Shocking.

A foreign giggle drew his attention behind him. From the hallway, emerged a smiling Chloe (smiling!) holding a far too happy creature to be the same infant who’d spent the better part of a day torturing him. The girl was wrapped up in a towel, her hair still dripping wet and badly in need of a comb. She repeatedly flipped a corner of the towel to cover her face and then flung it down in a flurry of giggles when Chloe gasped. The Detective also looked far happier than Lucifer had seen her lately, certainly happier than he expected to see her again after learning the truth. He was almost afraid drawing attention to himself would ruin whatever this moment was, so he held himself still and simply watched from a distance.

And then Chloe asked for him.

“Lucifer?” She glanced up to find him, still wearing that smile, and Lucifer pretended his breath didn’t catch at the sight of her. “Did you buy any pajamas for her?”

Clothes. Of course. Lucifer moved to the bags he hadn’t unloaded yet and began laying the outfits out on the bar.

“I’m afraid I wasn’t specific on the shopping list,” he said. “I have no idea if there are any pajamas in here.”

Chloe sorted through the clothing with one hand, a task made more difficult when the infant suddenly twisted back on her to dive for the floor.

“Ooph! Hold on, monkey.”

“Roger Bear!”

“We can get her in a minute,” Chloe said as she wrestled the girl back to her hip. “Let’s find some pajamas first.”

It was slim pickings in Lucifer’s opinion. The clothing was very soft and cartoon and pastel. He frowned at a shirt with a smiling sun on the front. It didn’t even have the personality of Ella’s graphic t-shirts. These were just… bland.

“Here’s some pajamas.” Chloe pulled a few outfits towards her and then asked the infant, “What do you think? Which one do you want to wear?”

Lucifer grimaced at the options, but the infant brightened and leaned down to pull a fuzzy, brown one-piece towards her.

“Ah,” Chloe said. “You want to match Roger Bear, don’t you?” She tickled the girl which caused her to giggle again. “Okay, let’s get you dressed.”

Lucifer cut off the tags and handed the fashion crime over to Chloe. She accepted it with a thanks that might have included a hint of hesitation in it, but Lucifer couldn’t tell for sure. Getting the toddler dressed was more of an ordeal than he thought it should’ve been. The girl was determined to help Chloe dress her but possessed absolutely none of the coordination required to do so smoothly. Chloe kept her patience far better than Lucifer could have and gently guided the girl until every limb was in their appropriate place. She and the child both cheered when the child was fully zipped into her ridiculous bear pajamas.

“I did it!”

“Yay! Good job, monkey!”

The infant grabbed her stomach. “Mommy, I’m hungry, now.”

“You are?” Chloe said. “Well, we can fix that. Come on.”

The Detective stood up and held out her hands. The girl gleefully reached up and allowed Chloe to pick her up. They both turned and looked expectantly at Lucifer who was so stunned by their night and day difference in moods that it took him an extra moment to realize what they wanted.

“To the kitchen, then.”

Lucifer had no idea what infants ate. The Detective’s child had her preferences, but wasn’t overly picky. He’d seen Trixie eat anything from chocolate cake to homemade burritos to McDonald’s chicken nuggets. But could an infant eat any of that? Could they chew yet or did they still need food to be liquid? No, scratch that concern. Lucifer recalled the sharp little teeth that had nipped his hands when he’d wrestled the girl into the Uber earlier. The gator-in-training was definitely capable of chewing.

“Is there something I should cook?” Lucifer asked Chloe. Unfortunately, she looked just as clueless as he felt.

“I don’t know what she likes yet.”

The infant answered for them. “Nanner!”

“What?”

“What’s ‘nana’?” Chloe asked.

“Nanner!” The girl pointed with a full body lunge towards the counter that made the Detective shift her grip again to avoid dropping her.

“Oh, you want a banana?” Chloe said.

The infant gleefully nodded.

“At least, she’s keeping the requests simple,” Lucifer said as he tore a banana from the bunch sitting on the counter. Chloe accepted it and then asked if he had a plate. He handed one to her and then the knife she requested next. Setting the child on the floor, Chloe peeled the banana and began slicing it lengthwise and then in small pieces crosswise.

“Why do you need to cut it?” Lucifer asked.

“Oh.” Chloe paused. “I don’t know. It’s just how I always used to cut it for Trixie.”

The impatient infant was stretching to try and see over the island, so Chloe brought the plate down for her to see. “Is it okay that I sliced it like this?”

The child caring whether the banana was sliced or not hadn’t been Lucifer’s concern. It never crossed his mind that the girl might have a preference. He’d only wondered why cutting the banana was necessary when the girl had sharp enough (plenty sharp enough) teeth to do the work on her own.

But the tiny anomaly investigated the plate with all the airs of a banana connoisseur before she pointed to the still unsliced end and whined.

“Okay, I’ll finish it,” Chloe said. To Lucifer, she added, “Guess she likes her bananas sliced, too.”

“Why would she care?” Lucifer asked.

“Children can get picky with their food. If it doesn’t look like what they’re used to, they won’t eat it even if it’s the exact food they asked for.”

“That’s ridiculous. Your child isn’t like that.”

Chloe shrugged. “Trixie’s always been easy going, but I’ve heard the war stories from other parents.”

Lucifer noted that while Chloe replied to him without hesitation, she didn’t look at him. When she needed something for the infant, she could face him. But when the conversation was just between them, she avoided him. That wasn’t a good sign.

Chloe handed the plate of banana slices to the infant and then fetched her another glass of water and straw. “Do you want to watch something while you eat?”

The girl nodded, and Chloe directed her back towards the living room, still without glancing his way. Lucifer thought he could stay standing in the kitchen for the rest of the night and not be missed. A tempting thought when it came to avoiding the two-faced toddler, but avoiding Chloe could be disastrous. It might allow her reaction to settle into hatred instead of calm acceptance.

So, Lucifer followed them out of the kitchen. The infant plopped down on the floor in front of the coffee table without prompting. Chloe sat on the couch just behind her. Lucifer handed the remote over to the Detective (she had to look at him to take it, though her gaze didn’t linger long), and then he, too, sat on the couch, careful to leave plenty of space between them. There was a difference between staking his presence around the Detective and crowding her.

He let Chloe navigate the various streaming menus to find something appropriate for the child. He would be in cartoon hell for the next hour or two, but at least there wouldn’t be any crying.

Then, the infant squealed and stood up to point to a show’s logo that was the polar opposite of pastel cartoon.

“What’s Fringe?” Lucifer asked.

Chloe only answered the girl. “No, baby, we’re trying to find a show for you.”

“I want that one.” But Chloe flipped to a different row of movies, and the infant flipped from her happy voice to a very loud and annoyed squeal as the show she wanted disappeared from view.

“Why not let her watch what she wants?” Lucifer asked.

“Because it’s not appropriate.”

Lucifer pointed to the infant whose annoyed squeals were poised to turn into a new round of tears. “Neither is that awful noise she’s making. How can a TV show be more harmful to her than denying her what she wants?”

“Don’t start with your greatest desire crap right now.”

“I don’t need to when the infant’s made her desires so clear.”

“I have no idea what’s in that show,” Chloe said. “Best case scenario, it’s just some cursing she shouldn’t hear. But it could have nudity or it could be scary and give her nightmares.”

Hm, nightmares would mean more crying — but that crying wasn’t right this second, and saving his ears in the present was Lucifer’s most pressing concern.

“Worth the risk in my opinion.”

The aspiring demon supported his case wonderfully by stomping both feet on the ground and slapping the coffee table. “Go back! Go back!”

“Fine!” Chloe huffed and reversed her scrolling. “I’m going back, Rory. I’ll find it.”

The infant didn’t relent on her tantrum until the logo for Fringe was once again highlighted. Rather than being annoyed at the noise, Lucifer was tempted to applaud her. The second the Detective selected the show, the girl’s cries cut off, and she gleefully ran back around the table to her food. The child certainly knew how to get her way, he’d give her that. Perhaps, she was more rational than she’d initially appeared.

“Does she even know what this show is?” Chloe grumbled.

“None of us do. That’s the beauty of it.” Lucifer risked a smile in the Detective’s direction and took it as a win when she responded with an eye roll typical of their dynamic and not a glare of loathing.

Five minutes into the episode, Lucifer found himself enthralled by the grotesque chaos playing out on the screen. He’d seen a lot of nightmares in Hell, but this show rivaled the best of them. It was quite graphic.

“Absolutely not,” Chloe said as faces began melting on screen. Out of the corner of his eye, Lucifer spotted her reaching for the remote. He lunged and, thankfully, beat her to it.

Now, he got a glare.

“Change the channel,” Chloe commanded.

“No, this is pure cinema.”

“Lucifer!”

“Ew!” The infant squealed in her most delighted tone of the whole evening. She looked just as enthralled as Lucifer while, on screen, a person’s ear turned to sludge and then slid off their body.

Chloe tried to snatch the remote from him. “She can’t watch this!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. She loves it.” Lucifer slipped the remote firmly between him and the armrest where Chloe couldn’t reach it without getting extremely physical with him.

“It’s going to give her nightmares.”

Lucifer hushed her while both he and the infant leaned forward to watch the passengers of the doomed airplane painfully liquify in front of their eyes.

And then the delightful torture transitioned to primetime TV’s version of a naked woman in bed.

“Well, that’s quite the whiplash,” Lucifer remarked. Not that he was complaining about the view (other than the bedsheet in the way of having a view). Though, the man in the scene was painfully square-jawed and boring. Hopefully, he wasn’t the main character.

The infant was also unimpressed with his character. She turned her attention back to her banana mush while occasionally turning around to the Detective and miming her face melting. Chloe didn’t find it nearly as entertaining as Lucifer did. He was delighted to learn that while the tiny creature left much to be desired in her tastes of fashion, she had brilliant taste in television.

The pilot episode never quite reached the same level of grotesque as the opening plane sequence, but it did feature an explosion later that made the girl shout ‘boom!’ in appreciation. The main characters (none of which were Agent Square Jaw, thank goodness) were mildly interesting in between the melting faces and transparent skin. Lucifer found himself particularly drawn to Walter and Peter Bishop.

“The man only cares about his experiments. No wonder his son hates him,” Lucifer muttered.

He caught Chloe giving him a sidelong glance.

“Don’t tell me you’re on Walter’s side!”

Chloe answered, “Are you doing that thing where you project yourself onto a case?”

“Of course not. We solve simple homicides, not mad scientist experiments gone wrong.”

“Mommy!” Rory pointed at the TV as FBI agent Olivia Dunham walked back into frame.

“She might be,” Lucifer added.

He turned his attention back to the show, but a moment later, Chloe spoke again.

“Do you think her mother is a police officer?”

Lucifer frowned.

Chloe continued, “She grew comfortable around me immediately. She seemed familiar with the precinct. What if her mother’s a cop, too?”

“She was never born,” Lucifer said. “She’s an angel and was created like the rest of us. I just don’t know which one of my parents is responsible.”

“So what, God just decided to make an angel who’s a literal three year old?”

“He is my top suspect at the moment.” Even if his mother had tried to make another angel on her own, she was still tucked away in her own universe. The walls were sealed.

Chloe huffed and glared at the TV screen. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“That’s par for the course for my father. He does what he wants and never bothers to explain himself.”

Chloe looked unwilling to accept this. In fact, she still seemed angry, but Lucifer figured that was better than fear. It was certainly better than hatred. As long as the Detective’s anger stayed as anger, they might be alright.

The infant whined. The episode had ended and now rolled through the credits. She turned back to Chloe and begged, “More, more.”

Chloe shook her head. “I don’t have the remote, baby.”

The little imp turned her dark, brown eyes on Lucifer. The intelligence in them was astounding. Lucifer could practically see the creature calculating her distrust of him versus her desire to watch more television.

“Play more!”

The desire won out.

“So be it, infant.” Lucifer uncovered the remote and started the next episode. “Let’s see what other maiming they can do.”

The girl giggled as she turned back to the TV. “Maiming.”

Another glare from Chloe.

“What?” Lucifer asked.

“I’m not staying up with her if she has nightmares,” Chloe said as she scooted down to lay against the armrest.

Lucifer was too heartened by Chloe making herself comfortable to care about potential nightmares.

Chapter Text

It was a beautiful day in Los Angeles, Amenadiel thought as he meandered the streets back to his home. Sunny. Warm. Happy. He was unbelievably happy today, and his mind turned back to the reason why.

Linda.

He had just left her place after spending a wonderful night with the most wonderful human Amenadiel had ever met. After so many weeks of growing closer as friends, he was surprised a romantic relationship hadn’t entered their minds earlier. Then again, he wasn’t terribly surprised by his own obtuseness. After all, how many times had he insisted on angels and humans remaining separate? Or preached to his siblings that angels were better than humans? Oh, how wrong he had been. Humans, it turned out, could be just as special.

Linda certainly was. Amenadiel smiled. Linda was beautiful and curious, wise and intelligent and brave… oh, and funny, too. He wasn’t sure how he was lucky enough to know her, let alone be in a relationship with her now, but he wouldn’t complain about it.

Must be part of Dad’s plan.

A couple crossed Amenadiel’s path to enter a shop. Amenadiel swiftly grabbed the door and held it open for them. Also part of Dad’s plan. He wished the pair a good day and then continued on his way. If the couple looked at him strangely for holding the door without also entering the shop, well, Amenadiel didn’t notice.

He did, however, notice the dark figure in the corner of his eye.

His pace slowed. Cautiously, Amenadiel looked to his left, but there were only a few pedestrians walking the sidewalk across the street. The dark figure he had seen was nowhere to be found.

Amenadiel continued walking, his giddy mood now replaced with alertness. He watched and listened for any sign that he was being followed. However, his stalker was skilled. They remained just below detection for several minutes until, finally, Amenadiel caught the tell-tale sound of a staff brushing the ground. His happiness rushed back.

Well, well, well. I also get to enjoy a family reunion today.

He knew exactly which sibling was following him. Only one could be this quiet and subtle. It was Remiel, the most skilled hunter of them all — but Amenadiel was a warrior. God’s greatest warrior at that. Remiel had never stood a chance at surprising him.

His face gave away none of this. He allowed Remi’s cat and mouse game to unfold and continued down his path. Occasionally, he threw a furtive glance around, but otherwise, he never acknowledged his sister’s presence. Remi always did love a good chase, and what kind of big brother would he be if he didn’t play along?

After several abrupt turns and stops and even a solid double-back along the sidewalk, Amenadiel took a detour down an alleyway and ducked behind a kiosk. Sure enough, his sister had become too confident in her ability to evade his notice and didn’t register the feint in time. When she reached the kiosk, Amenadiel grabbed her and whirled her against the wall. Remiel responded by shoving the tip of her spear against his ribcage.

“Remiel.” Amenadiel feigned a scowl.

“Brother.” Remiel scowled back and pressed harder on the spear.

Amenadiel broke first. He grinned brightly. “I see your tracking skills are as sharp as ever, sister. Your stealthiness, on the other hand—”

“My stealth more than does the job,” Remiel said, also with a smile. She pulled her spear back to her side, and Amenadiel released her from the wall. “I followed you for several blocks before you spotted me.”

Amenadiel folded his arms across his chest. “I spotted you back at the cycling shop.”

A flicker of disappointment crossed Remiel’s face, and Amenadiel’s smile widened.

“As always,” Remiel sighed, “it is impossible to sneak up on you, Amenadiel.”

“I wouldn’t be your big brother if you could.” Amenadiel laughed and clapped Remiel’s shoulders. “It’s so good to see you, Remi! How are you? How are things in the Silver City?”

“Things are fine at home,” Remiel replied, though with an underlying tension that made Amenadiel tilt his head.

“Oh? Now, don’t tell me you’ve ran out of stags to hunt. Or are our siblings disrespecting the silence of the forest again? I’ve told you over and over, Gabriel cannot be taught to hunt. It’s just not in her nature to be quiet for that long.”

“How I wish I was here for such frivolous reasons,” Remiel said.

Amenadiel sobered. “Something’s wrong.”

Remiel nodded. “The most wrong it could be. For the first time since our siblings were born, I’ve sensed another angel.”

Her words registered but their meaning didn’t. “A new angel?”

“A baby,” Remiel said.

Amenadiel shook his head. “I don’t understand. A baby angel isn’t possible.”

“It shouldn’t be,” Remiel agreed. “But leave it to our brother to make the monstrous a reality.”

Still, the meaning of her words refused to make sense. “But this isn’t possible. We can’t make new angels,” Amenadiel argued. “Only Father and Mother can, and they’re in separate universes now.”

“And that’s what makes this situation so monstrous,” Remiel said. “This baby isn’t a proper angel. It’s also human.”

She walked out of the alley to rejoin the main street. Amenadiel could only gape for several seconds before he managed to find his feet and catch up to her.

“Which brother? Lucifer?” he said. “You think Lucifer has had a child with a human?”

Remiel gave a humorless chuckle. “Would it be anyone else?” Amenadiel’s shock must have shown on his face, because his sister added, “Come now, we all knew this was a matter of time. Lucifer is — what do they call it down here? That’s right: a slut.”

“I can see your point.” He could see each of her points. It was connecting them that he found difficult. “However, Lucifer has been a… slut since the beginning of time. Why would there be a child now?”

“I don’t know,” Remiel said. “But it’s here. I sensed it two days ago.”

“Two days?” Amenadiel asked. “And you didn’t tell me sooner?”

“I had to be certain of what I was sensing.” Remiel shot him a sideways glance. “And why didn’t you tell me? You’ve been on Earth all this time. Didn’t you sense it?”

He hadn’t. And he most likely wouldn’t have since he no longer had his powers, but he couldn’t tell Remiel that. Only Lucifer knew his powers and wings were gone. Amenadiel would prefer to keep the rest of his siblings in the dark about both.

“The only new angel I’ve sensed on Earth is you.”

Remiel hummed. “It must be because it’s so young. It might not even be born yet. How long do humans take to incubate their young?”

“I’m not convinced there’s any young to be incubated,” Amenadiel said. “Come on, Remi. A half-angel, half-human child? That’s impossible.”

“Are you questioning my abilities?” Remiel struck her spear against the pavement. New cracks splintered through the sidewalk. “I am the best hunter in the Silver City.”

“I am not questioning your abilities as a hunter,” Amenadiel said.

“I know what I’m sensing,” Remiel said, firmly. “This isn’t one of our siblings. There’s a new angel in existence.”

True worry finally hit Amenadiel. Remiel was always serious, leaving the gossip and the pranking to siblings like Gabriel or Jophiel, but she had lighthearted shades to her if one knew how to read it. Amenadiel could read his sister well, and there was no jest in her words. If she believed she was sensing a new angel, then she was.

“I don’t understand it.”

Remiel huffed. “That’s because you give Lucifer too much credit.”

“Luci didn’t have a child on purpose, Remi. Why would he?”

“Well, he wouldn’t have accidentally had a child, either, if he didn’t mate with every human on the planet.”

Remiel had him there, but still—

“Why now?” Amenadiel asked. “How was a child created now?”

“Rumor in the Silver City is Father made him a gift.” Remiel peered up at him. “A human woman.”

Well, that was just ridiculous. “Chloe isn’t with child. Lucifer’s never had any relations with her.”

(He didn’t think anyway. He hadn’t checked in with Lucifer in a few days, so maybe something had shifted in his relationship with Chloe… but it was unlikely. Lucifer had successfully put distance between the two of them after learning Chloe was a miracle granted by Father. As far as Amenadiel knew, that hadn’t changed.)

“Then, it was with someone else,” Remiel said, “and we need to track this human down. So, what do you say, brother? Are you willing to join me in the hunt?”

“I’m always honored to hunt by your side, Remi, you know that, but I need to talk to Lucifer first. What if he doesn’t know about the child?”

“Lucifer has caused enough trouble in our lifetimes,” Remiel said with a roll of her eyes. “Our priority should be tracking down the child. Angels don’t belong on Earth.”

Amenadiel stifled his immediate response. Angels could belong on Earth. Maybe not forever, but for a while? Perhaps for a human’s lifetime? Yes, angels could adapt and be happy. Amenadiel was happy on Earth — but his sister wasn’t addressing his stay. She was talking about a baby. A baby that may or may not even exist. He needed more information. He needed to talk to Lucifer, but if his sister wasn’t willing to give him that time, then….

“Okay,” he confirmed. “Yes, I will join you on your hunt.” He certainly couldn’t let his sister run after a baby angel on her own.

Remiel grinned, and Amenadiel regretted he was no longer in the mood to grin back. He was far too worried about this news. A potential baby angel. Here, on Earth. It was unheard of.

“Then, let us begin,” Remiel said, and she spread her wings wide for all to see. Panic shot Amenadiel forward.

“Stop!”

“What are you doing?” his sister demanded.

“You can’t let humans see your wings,” he reminded her.

“Right. I forgot.” Remiel sighed and shrugged away her wings. “Brother, will you please slow time so we can fly away from the humans and begin the hunt.”

No, he would not slow time because he could no longer do such a thing. Amenadiel thought fast.

“Actually, I think it would be better for us to hunt from the ground.”

“The ground?” Remiel frowned.

“Yes. As you said, the mother must be human which makes the child half-human. Therefore, if we are to find them, we need to think like humans, move like humans, with our feet planted on the ground.”

Remiel thoughtfully nodded, and relief washed over Amenadiel that she was buying his excuse — but then his sister gave a decisive shake of her head.

“I understand your point, but hunting them by air will be faster, and time is of the essence. Who knows what could happen the longer this monstrosity is allowed to exist?”

“Exist?” A new worry hit Amenadiel. “Remiel, what do you plan on doing with the child when you find it?”

She held his gaze for two seconds too long for his nerves before she finally chuckled. “I’m a hunter, not a murderer, remember, brother? I’ll be taking the child to Heaven with me once we find it.”

“You want to raise the child in Heaven?”

“It’s where angels belong.” Remiel gestured at the street around them. “We don’t belong here on Earth mixing with the humans.” Her nose scrunched at the thought. “They’re so… ignorant.”

Amenadiel didn’t really agree with this sentiment, but at least Remiel was planning on keeping the child safe. “Still, keeping to the ground would be best. If we search for the child from the air, we might miss something.”

Remiel quirked an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”

“Yes?” If that’s what it took to keep Remiel from flying off without him. She was the most competitive sibling he had (and that was saying something given his siblings). Surely, she would accept his suggestion if he framed it as a challenge.

“Then, you have yourself a battle,” Remiel said, confirming his hopes. “I’ll search for the child from the air while you search for the child from the ground. Whoever finds them first wins.”

Not what Amenadiel had been aiming for… but splitting up could give him the chance to talk to Lucifer before Remiel blindsided him. He lifted his chin in acceptance. “May the best hunter win, then.”

Remiel shot him a grin full of wilderness and talons. In the blink of an eye, she flew off. Amenadiel felt a pang in his heart as he longed to do the same. He forced himself to shake it off, though, and pulled out his phone.

“Lucifer, what have you done?”

As Chloe blinked herself awake, she found herself staring up into a pair of deep, dark eyes while a curtain of long, dark hair tickled her cheek. For a wild second, she thought she’d travelled back to the year Trixie was four and in the habit of quietly lurking at the top of the bed until she and Dan woke up. But no, this was a different young child with dark eyes, and Chloe was certainly not at home in her own bed.

“Hi, baby,” Chloe said, eliciting a grin from Rory. “You’re already awake, huh?”

Rory pushed herself to her feet and began bouncing on the bed. “Hungry, hungry, hungry.”

Chloe grunted. “And you are not gentle at waking others up.”

“Hungry!”

“Yes, I’m sure you are.” Chloe groaned once more and then forced herself to get up. “Okay, let’s go.”

She held out her hands, and Rory happily bounced across the bed to be scooped up. Chloe then began getting the toddler ready for the day: a trip to the bathroom, a short trip to the bar in the living room to grab a new set of everyday clothes (Lucifer seemed to still be asleep, and Chloe was careful to leave it that way), and then finally a trip to the kitchen where Chloe pulled a chair over to the counter so the eager little girl could watch while she made them breakfast.

“Do you like scrambled eggs?” Chloe asked, keeping her voice low.

“Yeah!” Rory squealed in a high pitch that surely negated Chloe’s efforts to not wake up Lucifer. It wasn’t that Chloe wanted to avoid Lucifer still — she simply wanted to avoid every conversation and reminder she would be forced to have if she had to see Lucifer.

“Shh,” Chloe said. “Let’s keep our voices down.” Rory shushed her back, but then giggled loudly right after so Chloe didn’t think the message was understood.

Remember when you were a lost but fully human three year old? Those were a nice few hours.

The girl was attentive as Chloe pulled out the eggs and a bowl. On the first egg, she asked to crack it. On the second egg, she insisted and pouted so much, new tears welled up in her eyes when Chloe didn’t let her try. So on the third one, Chloe let her hold the egg and helped her gently tap it against the edge of the counter. Rory handled it pretty well. It wasn’t a clean crack, but the egg didn’t get mutilated either and remained usable for breakfast.

“You did it! Good job, baby,” Chloe quietly cheered. Rory beamed at her accomplishment. As a reward, Chloe let her help whisk the eggs in the bowl.

The eggs were nearly finished when Lucifer walked in. Chloe tensed — from guilt of all things — but tried not to show it. Strange that guilt was her first response to seeing Lucifer. Because she’d used his kitchen without asking first? It was surreal. She was cooking breakfast for a baby angel in the Devil’s kitchen, and her instinct was to feel guilty for not asking if said Devil wanted anything, too. The last thirty-six hours had been utterly surreal.

Thankfully, Lucifer was fully dressed for the day in his typical suit, so Chloe wasn’t forced to see the Devil in his robe first thing in the morning. She so did not have the bandwidth to deal with that on top of everything else.

“Morning,” Lucifer said, just a shade too quiet to be normal.

“Morning.” She gestured to Rory. “She woke up early,” she said, as if that would excuse sneaking around his penthouse.

Lucifer glanced down at the toddler who was turning in circles by the stove so her teddy bear could fly. “No nightmares, then?” His voice returned to his usual mix of buoyant and arrogant.

“No,” Chloe replied just as Rory tugged at her jeans with a “Mommy, Mommy, look!”

“What is it, baby?”

Rory crossed her eyes and widened her mouth as she moaned and mimed her best impression of the gruesome face melting she’d seen on TV.

Chloe snorted. “Yeah, definitely no nightmares.”

Lucifer looked on in pure delight. “That’s pretty good. Do it again.”

Rory was all too happy to oblige. As she melted to the floor, Lucifer joined the pantomime and pretended his ear fell off which prompted Rory to laugh hysterically and begin her mime all over again.

“The child has a sense of humor,” Lucifer said with a grin.

“Uh, yeah,” Chloe said because that really shouldn’t be a surprise. Then, under her breath, she added, “Seems a lot like yours.”

“I wasn’t convinced she was even capable of rational thought the way she was screaming yesterday,” Lucifer went on.

“Well, she’s three and stuck with strangers. Of course, she’ll be upset.”

“She seems pretty comfortable with you,” Lucifer said as Rory climbed back on top of the chair to check on the eggs.

“She’s just hungry. No!” Chloe snatched Rory’s wrist and gently pulled the girl’s hand away from the skillet. “That’s hot. It can burn you.”

Suddenly, Lucifer stood right behind them causing Chloe to startle a second time.

“The Detective isn’t joking,” he said. “That skillet will definitely burn you if you touch it. In fact, you shouldn’t be up here at all. It’s too dangerous.”

He reached out to move Rory off the chair, but she whined and swatted him away.

“It’s fine. I’m watching her,” Chloe said.

“It’s not fine. The stove is hot and the chair is tall. The infant will get hurt.”

“It’s not that tall.” Chloe narrowed her eyes. “Why are you so concerned?”

“Oh, because I’m the Devil and would rather eat the child, is that right?” Lucifer snapped.

Chloe bit back her immediate irritation. It was a fair response. She had definitely not been handling Lucifer’s reveal well, and that clearly bothered him. Because he cared, a little voice in her head said. Just like he cared that Rory could get hurt. His voice had been laced with genuine concern, and it was that concern she was questioning.

Just… not for the reason he’d assumed.

She turned back to the eggs. “No, because you’re Lucifer, and you don’t like children.”

Silence answered. The eggs finished, and Chloe turned the stove off.

“It’s not like I care about her self-esteem or what sort of college she’ll end up going to,” Lucifer finally said, a tad petulantly.

“Then, what?”

Lucifer struggled. “I… I just don’t want her to get hurt. Angels have never been infants before. What if she doesn’t realize she’s mortal?”

“What if she doesn’t realize she’s an angel?” Chloe countered.

It was a valid question. After all, Rory seemed very familiar with life on Earth, and if she was Lucifer’s child, then her mother was human and would’ve been raising her here.

But Rory promptly derailed this line of thought with an innocently simple, “Yes, I’m an angel.”

Chloe fought back a chuckle while the corner of Lucifer’s mouth quirked up.

“That answers that question, then,” he said. He leaned down to meet the girl’s eyes and asked, “Where did you come from?”

Rory stared back at him for a moment. Then, she grinned and enthusiastically mimed her face melting again — too enthusiastically. Her foot slipped from the chair, and she teetered off-balance. In a flash, Lucifer’s hands caught her waist to keep her from falling to the floor. Rory was safe before Chloe even had time to panic.

Lucifer set the girl back upright on the chair. His hands lingered to ensure she wouldn’t fall again. Rory accepted it for a moment, but then she pushed his hands away with a frown.

“No, Daddy. I don’t need help.”

With a tired sigh, Lucifer said, “Don’t call me that,” but Rory had already dismissed him from mind and spun back to the stove.

“Eggs!”

Chloe blinked. “Yep, all done.” She recovered from the scare and plated the eggs as smoothly as she could with nervous hands and an excited toddler leaning over her to watch.

“There’s a dining room over there,” Lucifer said, pointing down the hall.

“Yeah, why?” Chloe had to ask. “When are you ever doing dinner entertaining?” Lucifer grinned, and Chloe instantly regretted asking.

“A dining table has multiple other uses,” — (oh yeah, definitely regretted this) — “Like re-enacting certain scenes from Bull Durham.”

Chloe furrowed her brow, searching her memory. “Bull Durham, the baseball movie?”

Lucifer shrugged. “Not one of my favorite movies, or sports for that matter, but it is several people’s favorite posit—”

“Nope!” Chloe shut him up. (Why, why had she asked?) She set the plates of scrambled eggs on the kitchen island and helped Rory onto a bar seat.

“What are you doing? That’s even higher than the chair,” Lucifer protested.

“They have backs on them and I’m sitting right here. She’ll be fine,” Chloe said.

Lucifer was not pleased by this, but Chloe simply handed Rory a fork and refused to move to a contaminated table.

Rory, on the other hand, only had concern for her eggs. Half using her fork and half picking up egg with her hand, she happily dug in. Sometimes, she picked up a piece of egg with her fingers only to push it up the prongs of her fork to eat it. It was cute. Chloe smiled and worked on her own plate.

Lucifer didn’t protest again, but he didn’t relax either. He hovered by the kitchen counter, watching Rory with a wary eye, and tensed to pounce if she showed any signs of slipping off the stool.

“You can eat, too, you know,” Chloe said, but Lucifer ignored her. It reminded Chloe of the sharp paranoia of being a new parent — but, of course, Lucifer was obviously not the girl’s father.

Right.

“I want a nanner, please,” Rory said.

Chloe checked her plate. “Thank you for saying please, but can you eat a couple more bites of egg for me?”

Rory considered it and then pushed her plate towards Chloe. “No, I’m done.”

“Are you full or do you just want a banana?” she asked, but Lucifer was already reaching behind him. “Lucifer, don’t. She’s barely touched her eggs.”

“But that isn’t what she wants anymore.” He dropped a whole banana in front of Rory who tilted her head at it in confusion.

“It needs to be cut first,” Chloe reminded him.

“It’s an experiment,” Lucifer said.

“To test what?”

Lucifer gestured at the banana. To the girl, he said, “Go on then, see what you can do with it.”

Chloe had no idea what he was trying to prove. Neither did Rory. She stared at him for a moment, then down at the banana, and then back up at him. She turned in her seat and placed the banana in front of Chloe.

“Fix it, Mommy.”

Chloe stood up to fetch a knife. “I told you. Three year olds can’t peel a banana on their own.”

“Three year old humans, maybe, but angels are stronger.” Lucifer grabbed a second banana from the counter and handed it to Rory. “Peel it yourself.” When Rory only frowned, he pushed again, “Well, go on. Peel the banana.”

“She can’t,” Chloe repeated.

“Then, throw it,” Lucifer said. “Do something. Let’s see how strong you are.”

This was the wrong thing to say to the girl. Chloe could see the lightbulb flick on behind Rory’s eyes. He’d planted an Idea in her head, and Ideas and children were always a bad combination. That’s how you ended up with Barbies tied to the ceiling fan and whipping around fast enough to gouge the walls. (Trixie, when she was five. Chloe had had to switch to only showering when Trixie was asleep for the next year to avoid a repeat.)

“Lucifer—”

“Knife,” Rory said.

“See? She wants her banana cut,” Chloe said, moving to do just that.

But no, Chloe’s instincts had been right. Rory had an Idea.

“I want to throw a knife,” she said, bouncing in her seat.

Chloe didn’t immediately say no. Rory was asking Lucifer, so she would let him deny her — because he would say no, obviously. He panicked over bit lips and bar stools. Of course, he’d rule knife throwing as too dangerous for the three year old.

But the bastard cocked his head like the idea was intriguing to him.

“No, Lucifer.”

“Alright,” he said, and Chloe groaned. “If you want to throw a knife, then that’s what we’ll do.”

“Are you kidding me? After all that concern about her getting hurt?”

“It’s just a butter knife, Detective.” Lucifer held it up. “She can’t hurt herself with this.”

“She can certainly hurt us with it.”

“Theoretically, but we won’t know until we test it.”

Rory grinned with maniacal glee up on the bar stool. Of course, she was giddy. She’d found the one person on the planet who believed in following your desires regardless of the risk or cost. Pure bliss for a three year old who hadn’t lived long enough to understand why that was bad. Lucifer slid the knife across the island. Rory grabbed it and moved to jump down, but abruptly stopped before she followed through with it. She glanced back to Chloe.

“Mommy, can I get down now?”

“I’ll help you,” Lucifer said before Chloe could answer.

Rory skeptically eyed him. “I don’t need help.”

“Do you want to throw that knife or not?” Lucifer asked. “Being lifted down is your only option. I’m not letting you jump.”

Rory did want to throw the knife. She put her distrust of Lucifer aside and allowed him to pick her up, but the second her feet touched the ground, she pushed him away.

“Target. I need a target.” She jumped on her toes.

“Aim at the door.” Lucifer pointed at the pantry. Rory scuttled over to inspect it, but swiftly shook her head and whined.

“No, I need a target.” She whined again and pointed at the door.

“Right. A target.” Lucifer looked around him.

“This is a terrible idea,” Chloe said. “Do not let her throw a knife— oh good,” she added as Lucifer picked up a bread knife. “Yeah, that’s safe.”

He tore off a paper towel and then pinned it to the door with the knife. The force that would’ve required made Chloe’s stomach twist.

“Is that the right level for you?” he asked Rory. He eyed up the measurements as Rory bounced up and down eagerly.

“Iwanttothrow. Iwanttothrow. Iwanttothrow.”

Satisfied with the target’s height, Lucifer stepped back out of the way. “Alright then, infant. Toss away.”

This was the Twilight Zone. Chloe was in the freaking Twilight Zone. What the fuck was happening right now? How had they gotten here?

Rory lined herself up with the pantry door and stared down the paper towel. Then, she used her left hand to fix her right hand’s grip on the butter knife. Chloe wanted to interfere but she was frozen in place. Rory wound back her arm to throw.

The knife spun through the air just the way Maze’s did before it bounced harmlessly off the bottom of the paper towel. Rory whined in disappointment.

“The technique was good,” Lucifer said in surprise.

Chloe didn’t say anything. She had lost feeling in her jaw from how tightly it was clenched.

Lucifer scooped up the knife and held it out to Rory. “Here, try again with a little more force.”

Wearing a grumpy pout, Rory took the knife and lined herself up again with the door. She squeezed her fist around the knife’s handle with all her might and then pulled back her arm again. She flung it forward. Released her hand. The knife spun—

—and again bounced off the target and clattered to the floor. Rory burst into tears.

“Stop!” Chloe finally marched forward and snatched the knife off the floor. “Stop throwing knives. Stop experimenting.” She glared at Lucifer. “She’s three. Angel or not, she shouldn’t be playing with knives.”

“She doesn’t have the strength of an angel,” Lucifer said. “But she’s definitely thrown a knife before. Her stance was nearly perfect.”

The tears turned into a screech as Rory stomped her feet.

“Stop it, Rory!” Chloe yelled, unable to take it anymore. “Just stop it, already!”

The screech stopped, but Rory’s tears didn’t. She fell back heavily to her bottom and pulled herself into a little ball.

Regret joined the chaotic mess of emotions already swirling through Chloe. Every muscle in her body tensed tightly in anguish. She couldn’t breathe. Finally, her mind put a name to the largest feeling she was experiencing. She was afraid. Afraid of Rory, of how sometimes she was a normal little girl Chloe understood and sometimes she was an angel and so far outside of Chloe’s realm of experiences they didn’t even exist in the same universe. Never mind her fears over her partner of the past three years being the actual Devil and all the ramifications and implications of that revelation.

Chloe was afraid, and she was taking it out on Rory.

She closed her eyes. Counted to ten. Sucked in a ragged breath.

“Rory, I’m sorry.” Chloe knelt down in front of the girl. “I’m really sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have shouted.”

Rory mumbled something to her knees and pointed towards the pantry door.

“I know. The knife didn’t stick to the door.” With a shaky hand, Chloe softly rubbed the girl’s back. “You expected it to, though, huh?”

Rory nodded and uncurled so she could tuck up against Chloe’s chest instead. “It always sticks,” she cried.

Chloe pulled her close and searched her mind for a way to comfort the girl. “It always sticks, huh? Well, maybe the door is too solid. I bet you don’t throw your knives at doors normally.”

Rory shook her head. “AuntieMaze’sdummies.”

“Yeah, Auntie Maze has practice dummies. I bet you use something soft like that at home, don’t you?” Chloe smoothed down the girl’s hair. “Lucifer said your form was really good. The door was just too hard for that knife. That’s all.”

The cries calmed to a whimper. Rory leaned back and glared towards the pantry. “Mean door!” she scolded and slapped her hand on the floor.

“Okay, well we don’t have to hit it.” Chloe held Rory as she stood up. “How about we put the knives away, and we go get your banana now. Do you still want your banana?”

Rory nodded, still wearing a deep pout.

“I can prep it,” Lucifer offered.

He looked uncertain, but whether it was from Rory’s outburst or hers, Chloe couldn’t tell.

“She really must have thrown knives before,” Lucifer added.

“I know. You were right: someone’s been training her.”

Though, what that could mean, Chloe didn’t have a damn clue.

Lucifer hung back by the bar as Chloe settled the infant on the couch with a child-friendly cartoon. Guilt churned within him, but he couldn’t pinpoint what he felt guilty about. He’d been right to test the toddler’s strength. Understanding how much of an angel she was could help them identify her origins. Clearly, the Detective hadn’t agreed. She’d been furious.

But that had been more than anger fueling her shout to stop. No, she’d been afraid as well, and Lucifer suspected it wasn’t only because he’d let the infant throw a knife.

Chloe was afraid of him because he was the Devil. That was the source of his guilt. He felt guilty for who he was.

It was everything he’d been dreading: the Detective being scared of him. The Detective knowing who he was and no longer trusting him. No longer feeling safe with him. She really was only here for the girl. Without the infant around, Chloe would’ve run into the elevator and never returned.

He shoved these sickening thoughts down deep as Chloe walked over to him. He forced a casualness into his voice as he said, “No more Fringe, then?”

“Turns out she’s also a Paw Patrol fan,” Chloe said and came to a stop on the other side of the bar. This two feet of space was the closest to him Chloe had voluntarily been since she’d learned he was the Devil. It felt like a cavern.

“Lucifer.” Chloe lowered her voice. “Who is she? And don’t,” she rushed on, “don’t say she’s not your daughter. That isn’t helpful. Who is she?”

“I don’t have any idea.” With great reluctance, he admitted, “I don’t even know she isn’t my daughter anymore. I suppose it makes as much as sense as anything else I’ve come up with so far.”

Chloe slowly nodded. “Because she looks exactly like you.”

“I wouldn’t say exactly like me.”

“And she’s an angel like you.”

“Yes, there is that.” The girl even had his same wing color. That shouldn’t be possible. His parents had made each of them unique. Even his twin, Michael, had different wings from him. The only explanation he could think of for the infant’s white wings was—

— well, it wasn’t good for him, let’s put it that way.

“Do you have any idea who her mother could be?” Chloe asked.

“Shouldn’t we wait for the paternity results before worrying about that?” Lucifer said. “What if she turns out to be a new baby sister of mine? Then, we’d know exactly who her mother is.”

“Would it say that?” Chloe asked. “If you’re both angels, would the DNA test even work to tell us you’re related?”

Lucifer frowned. “I assumed it would?”

“Why are you saying that like a question I should know?”

“Because it’s your DNA test.”

“You’re the angel,” Chloe shot back. “How do you not know if a DNA test would work on you? Do you even have DNA?”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course, we have DNA. Mum was far too proud of her creation to not shove it into everything she touched.”

Chloe stared at him in disbelief.

“She’s called the Goddess of All Creation for a reason, Detective,” Lucifer explained.

With a groan, Chloe dropped her head into her hands. “I don’t even know where to start with that.”

Lucifer opted to stay silent so as not to overwhelm her more.

“Fine.” Chloe shook her head. “Okay, fine. Your mom invented DNA, so the test should be able to tell us if and how you and Rory are related.”

“Right.”

“Though, I’m fairly certain it’s going to say you’re her father.”

Lucifer really didn’t want to believe that, but he found it difficult to argue. The infant could still be his father’s doing, though the motive left him baffled. An accidental daughter he’d known nothing about, on the other hand, was… well, it was frighteningly human of him, that was for certain.

He could just imagine the look of stunned horror on Amenadiel’s face when he found out Lucifer had a daughter. The thought almost cheered him.

A presence scraped against Lucifer’s awareness, drawing him taut. He straightened from the bar. There was an intruder here. A celestial one. He scanned the room for them, but the only person he saw was the infant sitting on the couch.

“What are you—” Chloe began, but a calm “uh oh” from the girl pulled her attention behind her.

There. Lucifer finally spotted the uninvited guest by the balcony. They were just a silhouette, barely separated from the shadows cast by the curtains. Then, the person stepped forward. The morning light stripped away the shadows to reveal his sister’s stern, dark eyes already locked onto his. Behind her, she held her hawk-like wings on full display.

What the fuck was Remiel doing here?

“Hello, brother,” she said in greeting, though Lucifer knew she meant it as anything but friendly. She shrugged away her wings once she acknowledged him.

Chloe froze as she saw this second angel. Lucifer could feel her fear in the air. It was nearly as thick as the tension that hung between him and his sister.

“Stay here,” he muttered to Chloe before moving around the bar and putting himself between his sister and Chloe. He pasted on a smile, “Hello, Remiel. Haven’t seen you in a few millennia.”

Remiel still wore the same silver hunting tunic and black hide capelet she always had. Her hand clutched the double pointed spear she was so proud of, and her face seemed cemented in that too-serious scowl that had always made her the target of his and his siblings’ jibes.

Lucifer added, “It seems you haven’t changed a bit. What brings you out of your neck of the woods and into mine?”

“You know why I’m here, brother,” Remiel said. She stood at attention like a bloody soldier. Ugh, she always did try to emulate Amenadiel.

“Do I?” Lucifer said. “How about you say it out loud anyway, just in case I have it wrong.”

It was the infant. Two unexpected angel visits in one weekend was two too many to be a coincidence. No, Remiel must be here for the child. But why?

Quickly, he began calculating how to get closer to the girl without alerting Remiel — but said child decided it was a brilliant time to stand up from the couch and patter over towards this new visitor.

Lucifer’s stomach clenched. “No, stay back,” he warned her to no avail. The girl fearlessly stared up at Remiel. For a second, he wondered if the two already knew each other, if maybe the girl had been sent from Heaven, after all. Then, Remiel turned her gaze downward.

“So, this is the child,” she said. “She’s older than I expected.”

They didn’t know each other, then. The girl was as much a stranger to his sister as she was to him.

“Infant, I said come back here,” Lucifer warned again. He didn’t like the sharpness in Remiel’s eyes as she continued to observe the child.

The contrary imp did the exact opposite and took another step forward. She pointed up at Remiel with a smile. “You’re an angel, too.”

Remiel returned the smile. But where the girl smiled with innocent mischief, Remiel smiled like a wolf circling closer to its prey. Lucifer’s heart pounded. He needed to get the child out of here. Whatever his sister wanted with the girl, it couldn’t be good.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the Detective shifting by the bar.

“That’s right, little one,” Remiel said. “I’m here to take you to the Silver City.”

The matter-of-fact statement whipped across the room to slap Lucifer in the face.

“You’re what?!” She couldn’t be serious. He would’ve never guessed that was her goal for coming here.

Remiel’s eyes snapped back to him. The scowl returned. “Did you really think we’d let you raise a baby angel here?”

“What are you talking about?”

The infant was enthralled. She refused to walk away.

“Angels don’t belong on Earth,” Remiel said. “We all know that.”

“Who is this royal ‘we’ you keep mentioning?” Lucifer demanded. “Did you rally our siblings for a hunting party or is this a solo venture?”

“They would agree with me,” Remiel said. (Alone, then. No reinforcements were coming, Lucifer noted.) “No one would believe raising an angel alongside humans is healthy, and certainly, no one would want a traitor like you responsible for the child’s care.”

“Infant,” he said sharply. “Go back to the Detective, now.” There was too much distance between them. The child was far closer to Remiel than she was to him. If Remiel lunged for her, Lucifer wasn’t certain he’d reach her in time.

“A spear! She has a spear!” The little girl excitedly pointed to Remiel’s weapon. Lucifer cursed her penchant for all things violent. “Look! It’s extra pointy on the bottom!”

“Infant—”

“Don’t move!” Chloe’s voice cut through the stand off. Lucifer risked a glance and saw she had pulled her gun out of the bar safe and now pointed it at Remiel. Shit fuck.

“That’s the mother, I assume?” Remiel gave the Detective a dismissive glance. “I’ll never understand why humans love guns so much. They’re such pathetic weapons. Far too loud to do anything useful.”

“Detective, what are you doing?” The new wave of panic threatened to overwhelm Lucifer. Too much was happening. He didn’t know where to focus.

Remiel kept her attention on Chloe. “Though, I do have to give you some credit, human. You kept the child hidden from me far longer than I realized.”

“Put down the gun,” Lucifer demanded.

“No!”

“Detective, you can hurt everyone in this room with that thing, but her. Angels are invulnerable to human weapons, remember?”

Chloe wavered. Glanced at him. Glanced back at Remiel.

“Detective, please! Drop the gun.”

Slowly, so slowly, Chloe lowered the gun. Her fierce determination crumpled into open fear as she did. White-hot fury swept over Lucifer: fury that Chloe was in a position to be this scared, fury that Remiel had showed up without warning, fury that her intent was to kidnap a child — but he could only deal with one problem at a time. His first priority was to put distance between his sister and the girl.

But he was too slow. Too distracted by Chloe. The moment her arms dropped, his guard did too. Remiel took advantage of his relief to attack. By the time, Lucifer moved, Remiel already had her arms snaked around the child.

“Rory!”

Rory’s eyes widened, finally understanding the danger. Lucifer sprinted forward as Remiel turned back for the balcony. Move! He couldn’t let her escape with the girl.

A flash of white burst forth and startled them both. The infant unleashed her wings, causing Remiel’s grip to loosen. The girl fell to the floor. Remiel lunged again, but Rory lashed out with her wing, displaying the same ferociousness she’d used with Lucifer the day before. He wanted to cheer.

He settled for wrapping his hands around Remiel’s tunic and tossing her as far away from Rory as he could manage. Remiel flew back and crashed into the desk in the corner.

“I’ve got her!” Chloe called out behind him.

“Get her out of here!”

He expected a dash to the elevator and was prepared to do whatever was necessary to keep Remiel away — but Chloe grabbed Rory and ran for the hallway directly behind him. Easier for him to defend, maybe, but it meant they wouldn’t be fully out of danger.

Remiel bellowed as she righted herself and ran at him with her spear. Lucifer dodged, but she swung back with the other end and tore a rip in his jacket.

“Hand over the child!”

Lucifer shook his head. “Sorry, sis, but I don’t think you’re quite mother material.”

She jabbed. He twisted and shoved. She fell, shattering the glass top of the coffee table. The spin of her spear came too fast and tripped him, knocking him down as well.

“As if you’re father material.”

They both jumped to their feet and readied themselves.

“Dad isn’t exactly father material, either, yet here we both are.”

He swung first. Remiel blocked him with the staff of her spear. Pain shot down through his forearm to his shoulder, but he refused to back down.

“Father never wanted angels to live on Earth. It’s why you became so twisted and sick,” Remiel spat.

“No,” Lucifer said with a growl. “I picked that up in Heaven.” He kicked at her ankle but she darted back out of reach. “Are you really sure the Silver City is the best place to raise an angel? After all, I was raised there and look how I turned out.”

Remiel gritted her teeth in determination. She made another jab, but Lucifer saw the feint coming this time. He grabbed the staff of the spear and kicked Remiel’s knee before she could finish her spin. She gasped, and he yanked her arms down to break the spear over his knee.

“Not very fair to be the only one wielding a weapon. Don’t you pride yourself on being honorable?” Lucifer taunted.

Remiel sneered. “The creature must be worthy of respect before I worry about honor.”

She tried to swing at him again, but her defense was weakened with the spear snapped in half. Lucifer used his grip on the broken edge to pull her in and wrap his hand around her throat.

“It’s a good thing I don’t need your respect, then.”

He shoved her into the wall. The stone crumbled beneath her shoulders as she struggled.

“You’ll be returning to the Silver City empty-handed,” Lucifer commanded. “The child stays here.”

Remiel glared even as she fought to breathe. “No,” she choked out.

Lucifer shoved her harder. “The child stays here! She’s mortal, Remiel! She might have angel wings, but she also bleeds. What are you going to do with a mortal child in Heaven?”

Remiel seemed confused by this news — though it was difficult to tell when her face was shifting from red to purple. Still, she didn’t relent, so Lucifer tightened his fist again.

“Say it! Until we know who she is, the child stays here.”

Finally, with great reluctance, Remiel tapped his wrist in agreement. Lucifer released her and stepped back. Gasping, Remiel sent him a defiant glare.

“Fine. The child stays on Earth. For now.”

“Oh, don’t worry. As soon as we know where her home truly is, we’ll gladly send her on her way,” Lucifer said. “But I’m afraid we don’t need any help from the Silver City to do that. Now — get out.”

Remiel coughed and set to work gathering the broken pieces of her staff. Shooting him one last look of disgust, she flapped her wings and left.

Lucifer kicked a pile of shattered glass. What a fucking mess. Rory wouldn’t be watching TV in here anytime soon.

Remiel wanted to take the girl to Heaven? Remiel knew she was an angel?

But no one else it seemed. Of course, Remiel would sense it first. She wasn’t merely boasting when she called herself the best hunter in the Silver City. No one could track prey the way his sister could.

And today Rory had been that prey.

“Detective!” Lucifer called — and then tensed when the elevator doors slid open. Now what?

Amenadiel walked out of the carriage, and Lucifer relaxed.

“Oh, it’s you.” He crossed to the hallway Chloe had disappeared down. “Detective, it’s safe now! You can come out!”

“Why do you never answer your phone?” Amenadiel complained.

“I’ve been a bit busy this morning,” Lucifer replied, dryly.

“We have a problem,” Amenadiel said. “Remiel is here. She claims she sensed a baby angel.”

Lucifer broke into a laugh. “Oh, that’s just perfect.”

“Luci, I’m serious,” Amenadiel said in earnest. “She thinks you have a child. She’s trying to hunt them down right now, so if you know anything, you need to tell me.”

Lucifer shook his head, still laughing. “Detective!”

“Lucifer! This is important—”

Amenadiel cut himself off as Chloe emerged from the hall carrying Rory on her hip. Relief flooded Lucifer as he scanned them both. They seemed unharmed. In fact, much to his shock, Rory didn’t even have tears on her face. If anything, she looked awed as she stared up at him.

Admittedly, Lucifer was a bit awed, too. “Bravo, infant,” he praised. “You held your ground quite well, didn’t you?”

He turned to Chloe. “Are you alright?”

Chloe nodded.

“And Rory? She hit the ground pretty hard,” Lucifer said. “Was she hurt?”

“A small bruise on her arm, but she’s okay,” Chloe said.

“That’s a child,” Amenadiel said.

“Well spotted. Yes, that is a child,” Lucifer snarked at his brother. He shook his head and returned his attention to Chloe. “What about her wings, were they damaged?”

“Oh.” Chloe frowned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think to check her wings.”

Lucifer looked around at the hazardous junkyard his living room had become. “Well, we can’t check them here. There’s broken glass and splinters everywhere.”

“Luci,” Amenadiel said. “Why is there a child here?”

“Did you win?” Rory asked.

Lucifer replied to the girl, “Yes, of course I won. Who do you think you’re talking to?”

“Daddy.”

“Never mind, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“But how?” Amenadiel sputtered. “How do you have a child? Who is she?”

“Right.” Lucifer pointed between the two. “Rory, Amenadiel. Amenadiel meet Rory. She’s possibly an angel, possibly one of Dad’s experiments gone wrong. It’s really too early to tell.”

Amenadiel stared, stunned. “This is the new angel Remiel sensed.”

“Yes, and thanks for the warning there,” Lucifer said. “I just love being attacked by an overzealous sibling first thing in the morning.”

“I called you!”

“I’ve had a bloody three year old all weekend! You think I know where my phone is?”

“Hey!” Chloe interrupted. “Can we please refocus?”

“Oh, yes, sorry.” Amenadiel shuffled awkwardly. “Listen Chloe, he didn’t mean the angel stuff. He’s just being Lucifer. You know how he is.”

Now, it was Chloe’s turn to fix him with annoyed look of disbelief.

“Yes, she does know,” Lucifer said.

Amenadiel glanced at him. “Everything?”

“Oh,” Chloe scoffed. “Definitely not everything, yet. But if you’re asking if I know that Lucifer’s the Devil and you’re an angel? Oh , yeah, I’ve put that together.”

“Oh.” Amenadiel didn’t seem to know how to take this development. “Okay.”

“Two steps behind, as usual,” Lucifer grumbled. He gestured to Chloe. “Come on, we can check her wings in the library. We’ll just have to block the stairs so the determined creature doesn’t run off and add new cuts to her collection.”

Chapter Text

Remiel had been right, Amenadiel thought as they reconvened downstairs. A baby angel did exist — a toddler, in fact. That it had taken the greatest tracker in existence several years to sense the new angel only perplexed Amenadiel more.

“How is this possible?” he asked. No one answered him. Lucifer pushed a loveseat in front of the staircase while Chloe hovered nearby. The baby angel — Rory — had started chatting away the second her feet hit the floor. Primarily chatting to Amenadiel, much to his surprise. The girl bounced and spun in criss-crossing patterns in front of his legs. She was remarkably tiny. The top of her head didn’t even reach his hips.

“Did you see me? Did you see me, Uncle Meni?” Rory grabbed his knee and shook, though there was little force behind it. “I beat her up! Shegrabbedme andIwent—” The girl leaped into a full spin and jabbed at the air with her elbow. Then, she pointed over to Lucifer. “And Daddy won too!”

Amenadiel couldn’t stop the smile at her excitement. He kneeled down in front of the little girl — the little angel; he had a niece — and said, “It sounds like you’re quite the warrior already.”

Rory beamed. Amenadiel was certain he should be more worried. Baby angels should never exist. They were impossible. Yet, Lucifer had done something to bring a child into the world — something more than just have sex with a human. He’d been doing that since the beginning of humanity and there’d never been a baby angel. No, something different had happened. Something had changed. And the only changes Amenadiel had seen with Lucifer were due to his time with Chloe. But this child was too old to be their daughter. She must have been born before the two of them had even met.

So yes, Amenadiel should be frightened by a baby angel of uncertain origins. She was an anomaly, but… but she felt like a miracle. And as Rory beamed proudly back at him, that’s the only emotion Amenadiel felt: like he was witnessing a miracle.

Lucifer spoke, “Yes, you were very scrappy, but next time let’s not walk right up into the kidnapper’s arms.”

Rory’s smile flipped into a deep frown. She glared at Lucifer. “I didn’t do that! I’mtootough. Look!”

Pure white wings unfurled in Amenadiel’s face, forcing him to stumble back out of the way. Just as well, since the girl reared back her right wing and then slashed down with enough speed to cut if Amenadiel had still been in front of it.

“Whoa!”

“Rory!” Chloe rushed forward and gently grabbed the girl’s arms. “Hey, your wings are bigger than you are. Do you realize that? You almost hit Amenadiel.”

“Uh oh!” The girl threw him a worried look. “I’m sorry!”

“You didn’t hurt me,” Amenadiel reassured her.

Rory moved to retract her wings, but Chloe stopped her.

“No, it’s okay, baby. You can leave them out. Lucifer needs to check them over.”

Lucifer hadn’t moved since Rory had shown her wings. Perhaps he hadn’t seen them, yet? No. More likely, he was struggling to accept that he had a daughter. He probably had a list of denials and alternative explanations already formed, but Rory’s wings — white, just like Lucifer’s — silenced all of them. Those wings were a hard thing to deny.

Though, his brother watched Chloe, like she was the mystery making him uneasy. Strange, Amenadiel thought.

Focused as he was, it took Lucifer an extra blink to respond. “Yes, that’s right.” His eyes finally moved to Rory. “Come here, infant. Let’s see if you’ve been hurt.”

He moved into the center of the library where there was more room for Rory to spread out her wings. Rory walked over, head bowed and hands clasped in front of her, as she grumped a running mantra, “I didn’t get hurt. I’m a tough girl. I was the one who hurted. I didn’t get hurt.”

“I know, you were very brave, Rory,” Chloe assured her.

“Yes, I am brave,” Rory pouted.

Lucifer cocked his eyebrow. “This isn’t a punishment.”

But Rory did not look at all convinced of that. Still, she held her wings out wide for Lucifer to examine. Chloe dropped down beside him.

“What are you checking for? Bleeding, cuts?”

Lucifer nodded. “And bent or missing feathers, if she’s holding one wing askew, anything that seems off.”

Rory’s wings looked fully healthy to Amenadiel. Small, as they matched the girl’s small stature, but strong. Perhaps not strong enough to hold her weight in the air, but she was a baby. Human infants took time to become strong enough to walk. Perhaps angel infants required a similar development time before they could fly.

Images formed in his mind of taking the girl up into the air, demonstrating how to maneuver her wings, and guiding her through the transition between Earth and Heaven. As an angel, she should be able to do these things naturally. But angels had been created fully formed with knowledge and powers and strength. Rory had been born. She might need to be taught what had come naturally to her aunts and uncles.

And her father. Lucifer might try to deny that’s what he was, but he had quickly slipped into the role. Amenadiel saw it as plain as day as his brother directed Rory to turn around so he could check the back of her wings. Lucifer cared for the girl’s safety. He’d protected her from Remiel. That he was still reluctant to call himself her father was just a matter of semantics.

“Did Remiel really try and hurt her?” Amenadiel asked as the examination continued. “She said she only wanted to take the child with her to Heaven.”

“Oh, and kidnapping doesn’t count as hurting her, then?” Lucifer said more sharply than Amenadiel thought was warranted.

“I didn’t think there was a baby angel for her to take,” he pointed out. “I thought it was a wild goose chase.”

“Can we please stop comparing the girl to animals for our sister to hunt?”

“Amen,” Chloe muttered. Then, she frowned and turned to Lucifer, “Sorry?” like he might have taken offense.

Once again, Lucifer stared a moment too long without speaking. When he did, it was just to shake his head and say, “Alright, infant. Wings away, now. You’re all clear.”

Rory obeyed and retracted her wings. The pout, however, stayed out.

“Do you hurt anywhere? Is anything sore?” Chloe asked her.

The girl nodded. “My heart hurts.”

“Your heart?”

“I thought the bruise was on her arm,” Lucifer said with a frown. “Did she hit her chest, too?”

“Maybe when she was grabbed,” Chloe said. “Rory, why does your heart hurt? What does the pain feel like?”

In a sad voice, Rory replied, “It hurts because you didn’t tell me I did a good job.”

Those simple words reached inside Amenadiel’s chest and squeezed his own heart until it ached. Even Maze would’ve been gutted by them. No, that wasn’t fair. Maze was much softer than she pretended. His mother on the other hand — even she would’ve been sucker punched by the little girl’s innocence and derailed her schemes and plans in order to protect her. So, of course the adults in the room felt it hard. Lucifer blinked in a double take, while Chloe’s face crumpled.

“Oh, monkey. Of course, you did a good job,” Chloe said. She pulled the girl into a hug. “You did an amazing job protecting yourself, and we’re very, very proud of you. I think Lucifer and I were just scared, too. We don’t want you to get hurt.”

“But I did a good job?” Rory asked again.

“Yes.” Lucifer gave her a smile. “That was a very good job, infant. Whoever’s been training you taught you well.”

Rory’s pout flipped instantly into a bright grin. “Thank you!” And then she was out of Chloe’s arms and halfway across the room before anyone could blink.

“Uncle Meni, you have to tell Charlie that!”

“Um.” Amenadiel struggled to catch up with the child’s shifting mood. “Who?”

Rory nodded. “You tell him that I fought really good — just like Auntie Maze! But with my wings like you.”

Oh. Maybe the child had been born with innate knowledge of the celestial world, after all, if she knew both him and Maze were warriors (of opposite ends of the spectrum, and he was stronger than Maze, but still he could acknowledge the term ‘warrior’ applied to both of them).

“And I beat him again cause I flew, too. I flew all by myself!”

Wait… Amenadiel shot a sharp look to Lucifer. “She can fly?”

“No, of course, she can’t fly,” Lucifer said. “You saw her wings.”

“Yes, I did. That’s why I’m surprised.”

“Why would flying be a surprise if she has wings?” Chloe asked.

“Because they’re tiny,” Lucifer said.

“Yes,” Chloe replied slowly. “Because she’s three.”

Amenadiel voiced his earlier musings. “I imagine a baby angel would have to learn to fly the way a baby human has to learn how to walk.”

Chloe gave him an incredulous look (which at least had far less patronizing sarcasm than the look Lucifer gave him). “You imagine?” (Though, Chloe’s voice matched the level of sarcasm.) “Because a baby angel has literally never happened to either of you before.”

Lucifer snorted. “When would Amenadiel ever have managed to conceive a child? Well — until the last couple of years.” He shot Amenadiel a grin. “Perhaps the child is yours.”

Oh, Lucifer and his denial. “The child is too old to be mine.” Time to remove the blindfold. “Besides, her wings are white.”

Lucifer merely shrugged. “Quirk of genetics.”

“No,” Chloe said. She switched her gaze between Amenadiel and Lucifer. “That’s significant, isn’t it? Every illustration of angels always shows white wings so I didn’t think anything of it. But your sister’s wings… they were darker.”

“It’s because she stays in her damn woods too much.”

Amenadiel gave Chloe a real answer. “Yes, it’s significant. Our parents created each of us to be unique, including our wing color. For Rory to have white wings—”

“She’d have to be Lucifer’s child,” Chloe finished.

He nodded. Lucifer, however, huffed and began to pace.

“We can’t jump to conclusions just because of her bloody wing color,” he said. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Seriously?” Chloe said. “How can you still say that?”

“Oh, we’re playing this game, are we?” Lucifer stopped and squared himself up towards Chloe. “Okay then, why does your daughter have brown eyes when both of her parents have blue?”

The indignation, frustration, and fury that rippled over Chloe’s face had Amenadiel taking a quiet step backwards.

“Okay,” she said with a sound that could never be mistaken as a laugh in this context. “Just what are you implying with that?”

“That genetics is weird!” Lucifer said. “It’s full of mutations and all those dominant and recessive traits that humans still can’t properly decipher because Mum had to take her control issues out on something when Dad kept ignoring her.”

“I think you’re oversimplifying how Mom created DNA,” Amenadiel said.

“Precisely my point! It’s complicated. White wings on an infant does not automatically mean the infant is—”

Lucifer halted mid-gesture and stared at the library floor. The empty library floor, Amenadiel now realized.

“Crap,” Chloe said as she realized this too.

“Where’d she go?” Lucifer asked.

“Rory!”

Chloe checked behind the armchair. Lucifer moved to the stairs, though they were still blocked by the loveseat.

“Rory!” he called up them. “I swear if you’re covered in shards of glass right now, I’m going to leave you like that.”

Amenadiel listened for sounds beneath the calling of Rory’s name — but his senses continued to be dulled with his loss of powers. He couldn’t detect the girl anywhere. So, he joined the physical search and dropped to the floor to peek under the couch. No child there.

“Uh oh.”

They all turned towards the calm and simple sound. Rory popped out from between two bookshelves and giggled. “Look, it’s Auntie Maze’s.”

She held up a knife. Before Amenadiel could register what kind of knife, Lucifer and Chloe had already launched into action.

“No!”

“Drop that this instant!”

“Stop, Rory!” Chloe reached the girl first. “Put that down.”

The girl frowned. “No.”

“Rory,” Chloe warned.

“It’s Auntie Maze’s.”

“And I’ll be killing her later for it,” Lucifer said. He stood in front of the girl with his hands held out in defense. “Do as the Detective says and drop that now.”

When Rory turned her frown up to him, Chloe lunged from behind. Her hands latched onto the girl’s wrists, prompting an ear-piercing screech, but Chloe didn’t flinch.

“Let go, Rory.”

The girl whined in response, but when Lucifer pried her fingers off the handle, Chloe’s hold prevented Rory from fighting back. She could still kick, though, and did so with abandon.

“Noooooo!”

Lucifer succeeded in taking away the knife despite the kicking, and Rory broke into tears.

Amenadiel walked over complaining, “Why does Maze insist on hiding her knives everywhere?” Then, he saw the knife Lucifer was holding and frowned. “Oh. That’s just an ordinary knife.”

“That doesn’t make it safe,” Chloe said.

“Well, to her it does,” Amenadiel said. “I mean, she still probably shouldn’t play with knives if she can’t tell the difference between a demon blade and a human one -- but that knife wouldn’t have hurt her. Which you know,” he added to Lucifer.

Lucifer placed the knife on the very top of the bookshelf and said, “The girl’s mortal.”

“Mortal?” Surely, he had misheard.

“She bleeds.”

“Bleeds?” Alarm shot through Amenadiel. First a baby angel, and now she was mortal? How could that be?

Chloe bent over a still crying Rory and tried to coax her up. Amenadiel joined Lucifer at the bookshelf. Lowering his voice, he said, “She bleeds like you do?”

“No, not like me,” Lucifer answered, also in a low voice. “It can happen anytime, not just when the Detective is around.”

That was stunning. “So, she’s human?”

“No, she’s an angel. She has the wings,” Lucifer said. “Just not fully an angel, it seems.”

“Half angel, half human,” Amenadiel said. It was just like Remiel had theorized. “And you still think she’s not your daughter?”

Lucifer gave him a disgruntled look as Chloe’s phone rang.

“Fine, you can be mad,” she told Rory as she stood up. “But you’re not getting that knife back — or any knife for that matter.” She gestured at Lucifer. “This is your fault, you know.”

“This is Maze’s fault. I didn’t hide that knife back there.”

“No, but you let her throw one earlier, didn’t you?” Chloe shot back and then turned her back on them as she answered her phone.

Amenadiel asked Lucifer, “Is that how you learned she bleeds?”

“No, I let her throw a butter knife,” Lucifer said. “And that was only because the infant refused to throw the banana.”

“Throw the banana?”

“Yes.” Amenadiel raised his eyebrow, prompting Lucifer to expand. “I wanted to see if she had any angel strength.”

“Oh.” That made more sense now. “And?”

Lucifer shook her head. “She’s no stronger than a human three year old — but her stance was excellent.”

“Huh.” More proof that Rory had been born with innate knowledge, but it seemed she lacked the strength and immortality to go with it. How was that even possible? Why wouldn’t Rory be a full angel? She hadn’t inherited Lucifer’s banishment from Heaven along with her white wings, had she? Amenadiel frowned. No. Surely, Father wouldn’t punish an innocent child for Lucifer’s rebellion. This must be the mother’s humanity limiting Rory’s celestial nature, then. But how could that happen? Her angel traits should dominate.

“Who is her—” Amenadiel began to ask, but Chloe cut in.

“I have to go into the station,” she said, hanging up her phone. “My potential suspect was picked up. I need to question him.”

“Suspect for what?” Lucifer asked.

“For the murder I was investigating before you showed up at the crime scene with a three year old angel in tow.”

Lucifer brightened. “Oh, that murder. We’re still on the case, then?”

“We aren’t on anything,” Chloe said. “You have to watch Rory.”

“We’ll bring her with us.”

“She’s still throwing her tantrum.”

Rory’s angry crying had subsided to a whimpering pout, but when she noticed the adults looking at her, she kicked her feet against the ground and resumed her loud sobs.

“You think that will get better if you leave her again?” Lucifer asked.

“No,” Amenadiel said. “Chloe’s right. You don’t have time to question suspects. We need to investigate Rory’s origins.”

“Brother, if you don’t understand the birds and the bees talk yet, then look up a YouTube video.”

“That’s not what I mean—”

“Fine,” Chloe interrupted. “Fine, yes, I won’t leave Rory. We’ll bring her with us to the station — but she is not going in the interrogation room.”

“Why not?” Lucifer asked.

“Besides the obvious, the suspect is Frank Ferrante, aka head of the Ferrante mob.”

Lucifer’s smile resumed. “Frankie? But he loves children! The infant will soften him up for you.”

“I said no.”

But Lucifer was already scooping up a still kicking Rory. “Come on, child. He goes by Frankie the Knife, you know. Surely, that will cheer you up. And if not, the Detective nailing him for whatever crime he might have committed now should do the trick. She can put on quite the show.”

“He might have murdered a twenty year old would-be-mobster,” Chloe replied, not looking thrilled by this development.

“Twenty?” Lucifer said. “It couldn’t have been Frankie then. He never gets his hands dirty for lackeys. Too beneath him.”

“Then, maybe he can tell us who did get their hands dirty.”

“You really don’t know how mobs work, do you?”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Let’s just go.”

Amenadiel followed as they moved to the stairs. “Lucifer, figuring out where the child came from is more important. That’s what we need to be focused on right now.”

“It’ll be fine, brother. Miss Lopez should have the DNA results back by now to prove I’m not the father.” Lucifer turned to the child. “Oh, and more lollies.”

Instantly, Rory’s tears stopped. “Candy?”

“Ah, is that what it takes to get your attention? Alright, then, we’ll get you lots of candy.”

“No,” Chloe said. “It’s too early still for candy. We’ll pack you a banana, Rory, since you didn’t get to eat yours.” She shoved the loveseat over to make the stairs passable again.

Amenadiel huffed. “Fine, I guess while you go off and play detective, I’ll just stay here and research how a baby angel happened. By myself,” he said with as much sarcasm as he could manage. Unfortunately, it landed with no impact on Lucifer who simply smiled at him.

“I guess we all have our assignments, then,” he said before following Chloe out of the room.

Amenadiel sighed. Yeah, they had their assignments. Except he had no wings, no siblings, and no historical precedent to guide him. How was he supposed to discover where a baby angel came from on his own?

Wait….

“What DNA test?” He charged up the stairs after them. “Luci! What DNA test?”

Chloe shut the car door behind her. “I can’t believe I let Amenadiel talk me out of testing your blood.”

“I can’t either,” Lucifer complained as Chloe opened the back door to unbuckle Rory from her car seat. “I never knew you listened to Amenadiel over me. I’m your partner.”

“Well, he was convincing.” Sort of. Not really. All that crap about bulletproof vests and packets of fake blood — Chloe had always known it couldn’t be true. After all, she’d grown up on movie sets. She knew the difference between fake blood and the real thing. When Malcolm had shot Lucifer, Lucifer’s bleeding had definitely been real.

She set Rory on the ground and asked, “Do you want to be carried inside or would you like to walk?”

The girl was old enough to walk by herself. (And big enough. Chloe’s back was becoming sore from carrying the girl. She’d forgotten how heavy three year olds were.) But this morning had been… no, it had been terrifying. There wasn’t another word to describe an angel swooping down from Heaven to try and kidnap a child, so Rory might need some extra reassurance to feel safe again. Chloe knew she did. They had nearly lost the girl earlier because they had been caught off guard. If one angel was after her, would there be others coming next?

Sure enough, Rory said, “Carried,” but then she pointed up to Lucifer. “But I want Daddy to carry me.”

“Only if you use my name to ask,” Lucifer said.

Rory’s face twisted into a one eyebrow cocked frown that was nearly an identical match for Trixie’s confused frowns. “… Daddy?”

“No,” Lucifer said. He crouched down to meet the girl eye-to-eye. “What’s my name?”

Slowly, Rory smiled. “Lucifer.”

“She can be taught after all!” Lucifer stood, picking the girl up as he rose. “Now, memorize that because in a few minutes we’re going to prove I am not your father.”

Chloe sincerely doubted that.

Lucifer headed for the precinct, but Chloe caught his arm and pulled him back.

“Hey, is Amenadiel right?”

“Rarely,” Lucifer said, watching her hand on his arm instead of looking at her. “Right about what?”

“If I had tested your blood two years ago, would it have proven that you’re an angel?” Chloe gestured at the precinct. “Are we about to walk into a building full of panicked cops because you took a DNA test and proved God is real?”

Lucifer replied, “First of all, I refuse to be proof of anything regarding my father, unless it’s to prove how negligent he is. Secondly, I tell people all the time that I’m the Devil, and it doesn’t cause any panic.”

Chloe cocked her head with an implied ‘seriously’.

“At least not without showing them my Devil face,” Lucifer amended. “It’ll be fine! Amenadiel’s just paranoid. Worrying is his second favorite activity right after giving righteous lectures.”

“Okay. Just trying to be prepared.” Not that Chloe thought it was possible to be prepared in this situation. It seemed like every time she started to find her footing with this whole angel thing, something else popped up to throw her off again.

They walked through the parking garage. Lucifer tossed her a sideways glance and then muttered, “Listening to my brother over me. Of all the betrayals.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry.” She did not point out how much he sounded like Rory grouching to herself — but she certainly thought it.

Lucifer halted. The sudden stop caused Chloe to stub her toe on the back of his shoe.

“Ow.”

“Amenadiel’s the worst liar I’ve ever met. Why would you listen to him over me?”

Boy, he was not going to let this go, was he?

Then, her eyes met his. Lucifer’s expression was far too serious for childish complaining, almost as if they were talking about something much bigger and more important than a blood test she’d failed to run years ago. But just what bigger and more important topic they were discussing, Chloe couldn’t say. This weekend had been full of revelations. There was too much to choose from.

“I don’t know,” Chloe admitted. “Maybe I just wasn’t ready to know the truth yet.”

Lucifer asked, “And now?”

Her heart rate picked up. Was she ready to know now? No. She wasn’t ready. She never would’ve been ready to learn Lucifer was truly the Devil. How could she have ever prepared for that? But here they were, still talking, still figuring things out even if it was overwhelming and terrifying and made the future so uncertain.

“Now….” Rory fidgeted in Lucifer’s arms, looking thoroughly bored by the stalling. The corner of Chloe’s lips quirked up into a partial smile. “Now, we have a baby angel to take care of so I don’t really have a choice.”

She took over leading them into the precinct. After a moment’s hesitation, Lucifer fell into step beside her.

“Of course, you have a choice. I’m certainly not forcing you to do anything.”

“I know, Lucifer. That’s not what I meant.”

But she didn’t get to explain herself further because as soon as they entered the precinct, there was a squeal followed by Flora leaving her post at the front desk and rushing towards them. Immediately, Chloe reached an arm out in front of Rory in protection. She felt Lucifer tighten his arm around the girl, too.

But Flora didn’t notice their alarm. “Oh!” she cooed. “I know it was wrong to hope I’d see you again, but I’m so glad you’re still here. You’re just such a cutie pie!”

She tickled Rory’s arm, and the girl grinned.

“Flora,” Rory said.

Flora exaggerated her shocked face. “That’s right! How did you remember that?”

Because Rory was freakishly good with names, Chloe thought. Her heart continued to race from the scare, but Rory was as calm as could be. Already she glanced over Flora’s shoulder to wave at the next person.

“Hi, Officer Mikey!”

‘Officer Mikey’ turned out to be Mike Howard, a newer hire at the precinct that Chloe only knew in passing. He walked over to join them as Chloe wracked her memory for if she’d seen him on Friday. She was certain he’d been off the day Rory had arrived, but maybe he had been called in at the end of the day? How else could Rory have recognized him?

“I heard we had a new mascot around here,” Mike said with a grin towards Rory. “Hello there!”

While the alarm had passed once she realized Rory wasn’t in danger, Chloe’s tension remained. Flora’s and Mike’s excitement caught the attention of three more passing officers who changed their paths once they spotted Rory. It quickly became crowded in the lobby.

“What is going on?” Chloe asked under her breath.

“I have no idea,” Lucifer murmured back.

“How did you know my name already?” Mike asked Rory, echoing Chloe’s earlier thought.

“It’s because she’s smart,” Flora answered instead. “Aren’t you, baby girl? You are so smart!”

Rory giggled at the compliment. “Thank you!” she said, and then she ducked her head to give a heart-warming snuggle into the side of Lucifer’s neck. The display of shyness prompted a collective round of ‘aww!’ from the crowd of officers.

Chloe, on the other hand, frowned. Suspicion tugged at the back of her mind as she watched the girl hide her face for half a second before quickly flipping it back to smile at her audience who aww-ed once again.

Her audience. That’s what felt off. Maybe it was just Chloe’s guard being up, but this shyness and snuggling into Lucifer looked a little too adorable. A bit too staged, even, especially when placed against the whole ‘oh, my heart hurts’ ploy the girl had pulled earlier. Chloe might not have known Rory for long yet, but it was becoming more and more clear the girl enjoyed playing things up for attention and that she had more tools in her arsenal than crying to get the reaction she desired.

Flora tickled Rory again. The girl gave the most camera perfect giggle, further winning over her new fans. Chloe shook her head, more amused than anything else now. Hopefully, her mother never met Rory. If she did, she’d be instantly clamoring to get the girl cast in commercials.

“You’re also quite the charmer, aren’t you?” Flora said. Then, she looked up at Lucifer and added, “You must get that from your daddy.”

Lucifer’s perplexed expression morphed into a deep frown. “Who said I’m her father? Did Ms. Lopez say that?”

Mike Howard shrugged. “More like everyone’s saying that.”

“Well, who started that rumor?” Lucifer asked.

He glanced from face to face, looking for an answer. Flora kept her eyes averted like she’d at least played a role in continuing the gossip, even if she didn’t start it — but honestly, any of Chloe’s coworkers could’ve been spreading the story around. They had eyes, after all (and ears if they had been in the precinct Friday afternoon when Rory had very loudly recognized Lucifer). It didn’t take a detective to connect the dots and realize Rory was Lucifer’s kid.

But it seemed it would take an anvil of irrefutable evidence to convince Lucifer of that as he continued, “We’re still waiting on the DNA results. Most likely, the infant has just been misplaced by her real parents.”

“Sure, that lines up with what we’ve learned this weekend,” Chloe couldn’t help but say.

Lucifer shot her a look, and Chloe smiled innocently back.

“Oh, did you hear from her mother?” Flora asked.

“No, we haven’t heard from anyone,” Lucifer said. “It’s…. She’s….”

She has angel wings that exactly match yours? Chloe raised her eyebrows as Lucifer struggled to figure out what to say. She wasn’t so much amused by the struggle as she was deeply satisfied. For years, she’d watched him dance around the truth without ever outright lying to her. She’d been frustrated every time because she could never be certain what was a partial truth and what was the full story. Finally, finally, having the inside knowledge on what was real felt thrilling.

Flora nodded like Lucifer’s denial was just that: denial. “I know it’s shocking to find out you have a child. My cousin just learned he was a dad two years ago, and the kid was already in middle school — but he sees him every weekend now. They’re best friends. You’ll figure it out, too.”

“I don’t want weekends,” Lucifer sputtered.

“Okay.” Chloe decided it was time they moved on and tugged on Lucifer’s arm. “Well, we have a suspect to question, so we have to go.”

“Oh, do you need someone to watch her while you talk to your suspect?” Mike asked.

“I can help out,” one of the officers volunteered.

“Or me,” Flora jumped in. “I’ve still got a coloring book from when my niece visited me.”

“Oh… uh, we have it covered, but thanks for the offers.” Chloe pulled Lucifer out of the crowd, hoping her coworkers wouldn’t be so enthralled that they followed them.

“I’m not her father. The child’s just confused,” Lucifer called over his shoulder.

Chloe tugged him again. “No one’s buying it, Lucifer.”

Reluctantly, he followed her. Chloe navigated them through the hall and over to the stairs. While the group of officers was disappointed to see them leave, thankfully, no one followed them. Chloe breathed a sigh of relief once they were safely alone.

“DNA test or not, she is definitely your daughter,” she said.

“You can’t say that just because our wings match,” Lucifer argued.

“Officer Mikey brings me Happy Meals!” Rory gleefully declared.

“Oh look, now she’s calling in favors. Just like her daddy.”

“I am not her daddy!”

Chloe stopped them on the stair landing and turned to Lucifer. In a low voice, she said, “Look. Your mojo, that pulling out people’s desires thing, that’s because you’re an angel, right?”

Lucifer’s frown turned cautious. “Yes.”

“Well,” Chloe gestured at Rory who had settled for waving over the balcony at the people below since her admirers were no longer in sight.

Lucifer looked at Rory and then looked back to Chloe. “Well, what?”

“Well, everyone was sure drawn to her side the second we stepped through the doors,” Chloe said. “Kind of like what happens whenever you go anywhere.”

Irritation swept over his face. “Oh, come on,” Lucifer said. “That’s not the same thing at all.”

“Okay, then, how would you explain it if Rory didn’t inherit your angel charisma?”

“It’s not charisma. It’s humans being inexplicably obsessed with babies,” Lucifer replied.

“Right.” Chloe restrained herself from rolling her eyes and resumed walking down to the homicide floor. Obsessed with babies, sure that was the explanation. It definitely couldn’t have anything to do with the fact that said baby was an angel. They had already learned Rory’s wings were the same color as Lucifer’s. Why couldn’t she have inherited his powers, too?

“It’s true!” Lucifer continued to argue. “The human brain latches onto anything small and cute and doesn’t let go. Why do you think kawaii is such a popular aesthetic?”

“Hm, and did your mom design babies to be small and cute to match kawaii?”

“Reverse that chain of events,” Lucifer said. “And I don’t know why she designed anything the way she did. I told you she has control issues.”

Chloe nodded with smug amusement. He was reaching so hard for an alternative explanation for Rory’s existence, but even his imagination could hit a wall apparently.

The amusement faded when she saw Pierce hovering, stony-faced, at her desk. Crap. It was one of his rude and unfriendly days, apparently. Not that he’d ever been friendly for an entire day. It was more like every day was a rude day for him, but sometimes he showed a flash of convivial humanity. Unfortunately, he must have used his reserve up on Rory the other day.

“Frankie Ferrante’s been detained for an hour already, but he refuses to speak,” Pierce said in lieu of a greeting. “I need you and Lucifer to get him talking. Find out what he knows.”

“Okay, I’m on it.” Chloe hoped that would be enough to send her boss on his way, but he didn’t budge. Instead, his eyes landed on Rory.

“Why’s the kid still here? I thought you were calling CPS.”

“There’s been some complications.”

“Don’t worry, this is not Frankie the Knife,” Lucifer staged whispered to the girl. “Frankie is much nicer.”

“Hi, Marcus!” Rory smiled and waved.

“Hi, Rory.” Pierce turned his attention back to Chloe. “What kind of complications?”

“Why do you know his name?” Lucifer asked.

Chloe did her best to tune out her partner’s complaining. “It’s not actually that complicated. We found her family, so there wasn’t a need to involve CPS.” She hurriedly switched the topic back to work. “I’ll get started on questioning Frankie.”

She grabbed the case file from her desk and told Lucifer to stay put. He didn’t get the chance to protest — though he’d certainly opened his mouth to do so — because Pierce beat him to it.

“I need you both to question him. Where there’s one mob death, others usually follow. We can’t waste time on this.”

“I understand,” Chloe said. Definitely, one of his asshole days. “But we have Rory, so I’ll question him on my own first.”

“Why?” Pierce asked.

“…Why?” (She’d literally just said why. What was he expecting?)

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Lucifer joined in. “You heard all the baby-sitting offers when we walked in. Plenty of people can watch the girl if you’re really against her going into the interrogation room with us.”

“I am against it,” Chloe said impatiently.

“Then, I’ll watch her,” Pierce said. “Just get in there.”

“You see?” Lucifer gestured at Pierce. “He just proved my point.” Then, as an aside to Pierce, he added, “You’re not watching her, of course. But I appreciate the support all the same.”

Irritated, Pierce said, “And I’d appreciate it if you would do your job and interrogate the suspect.”

Lucifer replied, “Don’t complain to me. I’m agreeing with you.”

No. Nope, Chloe could not handle an argument about how to do her damn job. Not today of all days. She was exhausted and dealing with far too much already. It was a shock that her voice remained calm as she said, “Pierce, I have this under control. You,” she grabbed Lucifer by the arm, “come here.” She pulled him into the entryway of the conference room and out of earshot of Pierce.

“What are you doing?” Lucifer asked, seemingly annoyed by her manhandling as he once again stared down at her hand on his arm.

“What are you doing?” she hissed. “An angel literally just tried to steal Rory.”

“So, I’m banned from interrogating suspects now?”

“No, it means you’re the only one who can watch her. Humans can’t hurt angels; that’s what you said.” Chloe’s stomach churned at the memory of how helpless she’d been as she stared down Lucifer’s sister. Shakily, she continued, “Which means I can’t protect her. No one here can protect her. You’re the only one that can keep her safe.”

Lucifer’s annoyance smoothed away into surprise. “Oh.”

Oh. Just ‘oh’ was all he said, but Chloe could see the dots connecting in his mind. Maybe fights with his siblings were so common, Lucifer hadn’t realized the danger Rory was in. Immediate risk of injury he grasped, but longterm — more angels could try to take her. And more after that. His sister had seemed just as surprised by Rory as Lucifer was, and apparently angels didn’t react well to surprises.

Rory butted in and so innocently said, “It’s okay, Mommy. I can keep myself safe.”

Chloe smiled. She reached out and fixed a strand of the girl’s hair that had escaped her pigtails. “I know, monkey, but it’s important to always have backup, okay?”

“Oh, okay. That’s smart.” Rory nodded, and Chloe’s smile widened.

“Flora’s right, you know. She is extremely charming.”

Lucifer said, “I sent Remiel away. No one else should try to come for her.”

“That’s the other problem,” Chloe said. “No one is coming for her. Her mother certainly isn’t. She’s our responsibility now, and I can’t risk anything happening to her. Can you?”

Lucifer held her gaze for a long, long moment. Finally, he nodded and cleared his throat. “Sorry, infant. We’ve been relegated to desk duty today.”

Relief eased some of Chloe’s tension. Lucifer would keep Rory safe. The girl would be okay while Chloe worked.

“Thank you.”

Lucifer jerked his head behind him. “What are you going to do about Lieutenant Grouch?”

“He’s just going to have to deal.”

Lucifer snorted. “Standing up to authority, are we?” he said. “Good for you.”

Chloe smirked. “Well, apparently I’ve been doing that since the day I met you — considering you’re actually the Devil.”

“And now you’re calling me an authority?” Lucifer looked far too pleased about this for a full second before his face fell into a frown. “On what subject? Because there’s a few I won’t claim. Bowling, for example — I hate bowling. It’s a terrible sport with horrendous shoes.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “That still sounds pretty authoritative to me.”

Rory interrupted Lucifer’s retort as she exclaimed, “Pretty!” and pointed behind Lucifer’s back.

Both Chloe and Lucifer looked over to see Charlotte Richards crossing the precinct. She strided confidently towards them in her high heels, wearing a smile that was far friendlier than any expression Pierce had ever worn. Still, Chloe’s guard went back up.

“What are you doing here?” she asked when Charlotte reached them.

“Oh.” Charlotte held up the badge hanging from around her neck. “I work in the DA’s office, now, remember?”

Chloe nodded. “Right. Yes, I remember.” The news had broken last week and everyone had been baffled. But Chloe also remembered Lucifer had said ‘Charlotte Richards is just Charlotte Richards now’ without explaining what that meant or explaining how Charlotte was previously his mother, and now Chloe was much more interested in that story. Had Charlotte been possessed? Had Lucifer’s mother shapeshifted and impersonated Charlotte? When? For how long? And what did Charlotte know about the Goddess of All Creation and the Devil and angels, or was she as clueless as Chloe had once been?

Just going from Charlotte’s expression, she really couldn’t tell.

“I heard you had Frankie Ferrante in for questioning,” Charlotte said, “and I wanted to offer my services.”

“I appreciate that, but we’re not ready to press any charges yet,” Chloe said.

“Of course not, he’s just a person of interest right now.” Charlotte’s voice dipped into her defense lawyer tone for a second which made Chloe flip back to questioning why Charlotte had switched to a career in the DA’s office. “But I used to represent mobsters like Frankie all the time — alleged mobsters, I mean. Alleged.”

Chloe narrowed her eyes.

Charlotte continued, “My point is, I know how to talk to someone like Frankie in case you need any help getting information from him.”

“That’s a brilliant idea. Pierce does want two people in the interrogation room,” Lucifer pointed out.

And Chloe could see him still waiting by her desk with his arms crossed and an impatient frown on his face. As uncertain as she was on whether she could trust Charlotte, she was not up for having a fight with her boss today.

“Were you ever Frankie’s lawyer?” she asked Charlotte.

“My firm represented many members of the Ferrante family, yes,” Charlotte admitted.

“Is that going to be a problem if you were to question him?”

“No, of course not,” Charlotte quickly said. She held up her badge again. “I’m on the good guys’ side now. Your side.”

Lucifer certainly looked pleased with this plan. But Chloe couldn’t tell if that was for Lucifer reasons or angelic reasons he hadn’t yet explained. She had so many questions for him later.

“What’s the hold up, Decker?” Pierce called out.

Chloe didn’t have the energy to debate this anymore. “Okay, fine, you can come in with me.” She returned to her desk to relay the message that Charlotte would be doing the questioning with her.

“Charlotte?” Pierce frowned.

“She knows the Ferrante family. She’ll be a big help.” Chloe pointed at Lucifer. “You, stay put. And no candy until after noon.”

She turned her back on Pierce glaring over this change in partner and Lucifer protesting arbitrary restraints for preventing a toddler from crying and then said to Charlotte. “Come on. Let’s see what you can do.”

Pierce lingered at the break counter, stirring his cup of coffee for far longer than was necessary. Lucifer sat at Chloe’s desk while the toddler sat in the extra chair beside him. They seemed to be arguing. Or Lucifer seemed to be arguing. When toddlers argued, they threw a tantrum, and Rory was as calm as could be. She giggled, in fact, like Lucifer had said something amusing. Lucifer shook his head and pulled a case file towards him.

But not the right case file. The Pillegi file was with Chloe in the interrogation room. Where Lucifer was not.

Why wasn’t Lucifer in the interrogation room? He hadn’t stuck around at the crime scene, either, after bringing the toddler with him. Did he even realize who the victim was? Why was he carting the girl around with him? Since when did Lucifer care about children that wasn’t Chloe’s daughter?

Officer Howard came up to fix his own cup of coffee. Pierce ignored him until the other man spoke.

“They’re cute together, aren’t they? Lucifer and his daughter. Reminds me of my girls.”

Howard smiled fondly as he returned the coffee pot to the cradle. Pierce’s confusion deepened.

“Lucifer and his daughter?”

“You didn’t hear?” Howard gestured over to Lucifer and the girl. “That’s Rory Morningstar. She showed up Friday, I guess.”

“Morningstar? I didn’t realize we’d identified her.”

“Well,” Howard glanced around, but no one else was in the break area. Still, he lowered his voice, “From what I heard, there’s still been no sign of her mother. Maybe Lucifer knows who it is, but I didn’t want to pry. Wasn’t my place.”

“Then, we don’t know anything.”

“We will. Ella’s got a DNA test in the works.” Howard gestured again. “But I mean, just look at them. Definitely a matching pair.”

Pierce wanted to laugh at the absurdity. Lucifer took a paternity test? He actually bothered with that? Angels couldn’t have children, and the Devil was no exception. It was possible Chloe had insisted if the girl said her last name was Morningstar. She’d been reluctant to give up on finding the girl’s parents on Friday, and if it seemed like her partner was one of those parents? Sure, she’d insist on Lucifer keeping the kid. But why was Lucifer going along with it? He knew the child wasn’t his.

Unless, Lucifer didn’t know that. Unless, for some reason, he was also questioning whether the girl could be his.

“It’s Mike, isn’t it?” Pierce asked the officer.

Howard nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“And you have two children, right?” Pierce asked. He hadn’t paid much attention to Howard’s personnel file since he was newer to this precinct and not involved in Lucifer’s life, but it wasn’t too difficult to recall this information.

Howard seemed pleased he had. “Yes, I do. Seven and four. Do you have children?”

Pierce ignored the question and asked one of his own. “Has Lucifer been calling himself the girl’s father?”

Howard’s smile shifted into that of elders who know better — which made his twenty-seven year old face infinitely more punchable. “I think he’s still nervous about it. It’s a big deal to learn you’re a father, and that’s when you have nine months to prepare. I imagine meeting your daughter as a toddler is even more of a shock.”

“Hm.” Pierce sipped his coffee and returned his attention to watching Lucifer. It took a moment, but Officer Howard got the message that the conversation was over and walked away.

Why would Lucifer believe he could be the father? What was it about this girl besides her last name?

A text came in. But it wasn’t his cell phone that buzzed in his pocket. It was the burner. Pierce tossed the stirrer into the trash and returned to his office. Shutting the door behind him, he crossed over to the window where the view from his door was most limited. He checked the text.

Thinking of changing your life? A new hairstyle could be just what you need.

Pierce considered how to respond.

I’m not interested in making any life changes at this time.

He slipped the burner back into his pocket. If Pillegi didn’t get Lucifer’s attention, then there wasn’t any point in killing Frieda Marquez. Not yet, anyway.

First, he needed to learn more about the person who did have Lucifer’s attention. Rory Morningstar: lost toddler and somehow, possibly, Lucifer’s daughter.

Chapter Text

Desk duty was as mind-numbingly boring as Lucifer had always suspected it to be. He itched to be in the interrogation room. It was where he was supposed to be, after all, as Chloe’s partner. But while he disagreed with the Detective’s assertion that Rory was too young to be around a murder suspect (not when the murder suspect was Frankie Ferrante, anyway), he did admit she had a point about qualified baby-sitters and the lack thereof if another one of his siblings attempted to take the girl.

No one else should get the notion to attack. Even if they weren’t deterred by how he’d soundly beaten Remiel, the thought to kidnap Rory most likely hadn’t crossed anyone else’s mind. His siblings might all hold similar beliefs in how the world should operate (primarily with angels keeping their distance from humans), but they acted painfully independent of one another. When one person took action, rarely did anyone else follow. It’s why his rebellion had failed before it had ever really began. It’s why no one else had come to Earth when Uriel had tried to kill their mother, and it’s why only Amenadiel had bothered trying to send Lucifer packing back to Hell. Angels were a homogeneous group that did everything alone.

This was another trait the infant didn’t inherit. Rather than minding her own business, Rory insisted on inserting herself into everything she possibly could. His life, of course: she’d entirely turned that upside down. Thanks to her, his relationship with the Detective currently hung somewhere between ‘thoroughly disrupted’ and ‘wrecked beyond repair’. And now, the mysterious infant was inserting herself into their work.

Or pretending to, at least. The Crayola scribbles she drew weren’t actually a closing report for an investigation, but the infant insisted to the contrary. She was helping ‘Mommy’ because she always helped Mommy with her cases. The laugh she’d given when Lucifer had pointed out that he was the one who actually helped the Detective on her cases still taunted him.

“No, you don’t do any work. Only I help, Mommy. And sometimes Auntie Maze,” Rory had confidently said, and then she’d rededicated all of her attention to changing her piece of scrap paper from white to orange.

The infant might not be endlessly crying anymore, but she was still a Brat in D-Miniature. No matter. When Chloe returned to see her real reports had been completed, she’d know who to thank — and it wouldn’t be the infant.

That was potentially another reason he had actually cracked open a file to fill out the paperwork inside instead of swiping it for paper airplanes. He wanted to stay in Chloe’s good graces. An impossible task by this point — he could still see the pure terror in her eyes when Remiel had appeared — but the Detective had been remarkably calm in the hours since. She’d even been downright normal with him at times which was baffling. She knew he was the Devil, now, and was no longer comfortable in his presence. That had been made abundantly clear two days earlier when she’d seen his wings and fled as quickly as she could.

So, then what were the arm touches, the banter, and the smiles about?

The paper sliced into the skin of his thumb as he flipped to the next page of a report. Lucifer cursed under his breath and examined the injury. The papercut wasn’t deep enough to bleed unless he pressed on it, but it sure stung a lot.

He held the offending cut out to Rory. “You see, this is the Detective’s fault for me. I don’t know what your excuse is for getting hurt.”

The girl didn’t bother looking up from her scribbles. “I’m busy, Daddy.”

“Right, of course. You’re writing your all important nonsense reports for ‘Mommy.”

He huffed and turned back to the real paperwork — but something pulled his gaze back to Rory. For a second… only for a split second… the tilt of the girl’s head and the slight furrow in her brow made her look just like the Detective when she was focused on a problem.

Lucifer blinked, and the image cleared. The infant was just the infant again with no obvious similarity to anyone. Strange.

“It got us answers, didn’t it?” a voice drifted across the precinct.

The door to the interrogation room finally opened. Lucifer hurriedly ducked his head back towards the reports to look busy as Chloe and Charlotte walked out.

“You offered him a plea deal on a pending grand larceny charge,” Chloe said. “Did you even have authority from the DA to do that?”

“I’m sure it won’t be a problem,” Charlotte said. “Murder is worse than some petty theft, after all.”

“Fifty thousand dollars in stolen merchandise is not ‘petty theft’”.

“In comparison to murder?”

“In comparison to what petty theft actually means. Like the legal definition of it, which you should care about being a lawyer.”

Lucifer itched to look up as the Detective finally reached her desk, but he kept his eyes firmly focused on the folder in front of him. Any second, she’ll notice I’m filling out the reports and confirm to the infant that I do, in fact, help with her cases.

“Yes, but we’re talking about the murder of another human being,” Charlotte continued to argue. “I mean, that is objectively worse than any other crime in the books — right, Lucifer?”

Ah, there was his cue. Lucifer looked up and calmly said, “Sorry, I can’t speak to anything that happened in the interrogation room. I was barred from entering.”

“So, you decided to retaliate by doodling all over my paperwork?” Chloe asked.

Lucifer tried not to wince at the frown she wore as she snatched the folder away from him. Her fear of angels had clearly returned, and it was making her angry. But he’d prepared for this. She could scan those reports all she wanted, but she wouldn’t find a single smutty drawing adorning the margins. Those reports were completely clean.

Indeed, it was so satisfying to see her eyebrows raise in surprise.

“This is filled out correctly,” she said.

“Is it?” Lucifer smiled.

“Yes.” Now, Chloe’s brow furrowed in suspicion. “Why is this filled out correctly?”

“Just doing my part, helping you solve your cases in whatever capacity you may need me,” Lucifer said. “Now, repeat that to the infant because she doesn’t believe me when I say it.”

Charlotte noticed Rory for the first time and asked, “Are you baby-sitting for someone?”

“Something like that,” Lucifer said.

“Huh.” Charlotte cocked her head. “You should’ve brought her into the interrogation room. That would’ve gotten Frankie talking easily. He loves children.”

“That’s exactly what I said!” Lucifer gave Chloe a pointed look.

Uh oh. Bringing up his friendliness with the head of a local mob family might have been a mistake when Chloe was already struggling to accept his Devilness. Her jaw ticked, and she shut her eyes like she wanted to shout at him.

But to his surprise, she turned away from him when her eyes opened.

“Look, Charlotte,” Chloe said, “you’re on the law enforcement side now. We have to tread carefully with Frankie Ferrante because he’s the head of a mob — you know, the kind of people who like to take revenge when one of their own gets killed. We can’t give him information that could escalate this into a street war.”

“I didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know,” Charlotte insisted.

“You offered him a plea deal! He thinks he has immunity now.”

“On grand larceny,” Charlotte said. “I was very explicit that the deal doesn’t cover murder.”

“That’s not how he interpreted it. He thinks you’re on his side.” Chloe shook her head. “You know what, forget it. Just go check with the DA to see if your plea deal holds any water. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“I can still help if you have other suspects—”

“I said I’ve got it,” Chloe repeated with a tone so final that it not only nailed a coffin shut but buried it in the dirt and marked it with a tombstone and bouquet of flowers.

Charlotte looked as stunned as Lucifer felt over the dismissal. He didn’t understand why Charlotte was getting the brunt of the Detective’s anger. He was the one who was the Devil. He was the reason she’d now had to face three angels in as many days. Why wasn’t he the one getting yelled at?

No one moved or spoke for a second. After a restless scan of her desk, Chloe sighed and muttered, “I need more coffee for this day,” before walking off towards the break area.

Lucifer and Charlotte exchanged looks.

“Murder is worse than theft, though,” she said. Lowering her voice, she added, “Like… in Hell. Isn’t it?”

Giving Charlotte the truth didn’t seem like the most helpful thing to do, so he said instead, “Don’t worry about that. You’re helping the Detective. That’s always a good way to clear your ledger.”

That reassured her. Charlotte nodded. “Right, yeah. I mean, it’s not like Frankie’s going to kill someone else just because his protege was murdered.” The uncertainty returned in her expression. “Probably not.”

“Of course not,” Lucifer said. “And if he did, that wouldn’t be your fault. The Detective’s right, the mob’s very eye-for-an-eye. That’s just the way they operate.”

“Right.” Charlotte still looked uncertain. Unfortunately, Lucifer couldn’t come up with anything else to help her in the moment. He was more concerned with his own dressing down that was due to begin when the Detective returned.

Before leaving, Charlotte’s eyes fell to Rory. She leaned towards Lucifer again. “The Devil can’t have kids — can you?”

“Of course not,” Lucifer said much stronger this time.

Charlotte glanced at Rory again. “But you still took a paternity test to prove that, right?”

“That’s it,” Lucifer said. “Who’s spreading this rumor that I have a daughter? I want names.”

“No one that I’ve heard.” Charlotte raised her eyebrows. “She just has your eyes. But if someone is trying to sue you for child support, contact me.”

Lucifer sighed as Charlotte walked away. To himself, he muttered, “If only it were that simple.”

He searched the infant for any physical similarities to him or anyone else he knew. He still didn’t see the resemblance. Rory’s eye color was dark brown like his, but he’d already proven eye color didn’t indicate parentage. Her hair was black, but that meant nothing. Black was the most common hair color in the world. Her wings were white like his — that one was harder to dismiss, but there had to be some limitations if his father (or mother) had created an angel all alone. A lack of immortality, a lack of maturity, recycled wing colors — his father had just failed with this experiment. It had nothing to do with him.

It most likely had nothing to do with him.

Chloe returned with two coffees in hand. She shooed him with one. “Can I please have my seat back?”

Lucifer stood up, though not without protesting that the infant had stolen his own seat. Chloe didn’t respond to his complaint (not surprising) and handed him the second coffee as she sat down (very surprising).

“Hi, Mommy,” Rory said, without looking up.

“Hi, baby.” Chloe smoothed back the girl’s hair. “What are you working on?”

The girl twisted herself to block her paper. “I’m not done yet.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll let you finish.”

The Detective began straightening the folders on her desk. She confirmed which reports Lucifer had completed (four) and which were still in process (two, including the one she’d snatched from him). Absolutely no fear-laden criticism or beratement came despite the frown that continued to tug at her face.

“Are you alright?” Lucifer finally asked.

“No,” Chloe said. “This case doesn’t make any sense, and I can’t tell if that’s because we’re missing something or if it’s because I’m distracted.”

“I meant, why am I getting coffee and a please when you just chewed out Charlotte for actually helping you?”

“Because she was only helping Frankie in there.” Chloe groaned. “You didn’t see her. She spent more time falling back into her defense lawyer role than doing her actual DA job. Why did she even bother switching jobs?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “And how much does she actually know about you and… all of that?”

There were too many answers to those questions, so Lucifer opted for the safest one.

“She’s just trying to do better. You should let her.”

“I am. I’m just not sure how successful she’s being yet.” She changed the subject. “Hey, you haven’t seen Ella around anywhere, have you? She’s supposed to be testing some hairs we found at the crime scene.”

“No, and believe me, I’ve kept my eye out for her,” Lucifer said. Those DNA results dangled over his head like an executioner’s blade. He desperately needed to know which way the ax would swing while also fearing what the results would ultimately say. Not because he was actually beginning to believe everyone’s claims that he was a father, but just because… well… it was an executioner’s blade! Anyone would be nervous about that! Even metaphorical ones.

The infant abruptly dropped her crayon and held up her paper for the Detective to see.

“Look, Mommy, I’m finished!”

“Wow!” Chloe said. “That looks so good!”

The praise was more effusive than Trixie received for her drawings — but that seemed to be due to the child’s young age rather than her skill. When Lucifer leaned over to view the work, all he saw on the page were spiraling orange blobs. At least Trixie drew recognizable objects.

“That’s what you spent so much time on?”

Chloe smacked him on the arm. Well, smacked wasn’t quite the right word for it. Tap would’ve been more accurate. It was a playful scolding that left Lucifer as confused as the earlier ‘please’.

“It looks amazing, Rory,” Chloe reiterated. “Is orange your favorite color?”

“Yeah, I love orange.” Rory nodded and began adding more scribbles to the page even though she had just declared it to be finished.

The Detective seemed amused by this contradiction. Lucifer continued to puzzle over the discrepancy in Chloe’s mood.

“Seriously, did you hit your head at some point?”

“What?”

“How are you acting so normal?” Lucifer asked. “Why aren’t you more upset?”

Understanding crossed over Chloe’s face. “Oh.” Her voice lowered. “I’m mostly concerned for Rory, right now. Has she been upset at all since we got here?”

Lucifer replied, “She’s just been focused on her scribbling.”

“That’s good,” Chloe said. “I think.”

This was no more insightful than Dave Maddox’s horrendous artwork. He already knew Chloe worried for the infant. What he didn’t understand was what had inspired the Detective’s about-face when it came to him. One hour she’s terrified of him, the next she’s offering him coffee? Make it make sense!

But he didn’t get to push for answers. Rory butted in (of course, she did, when didn’t she?) and complained she was hungry. After checking the time, Chloe agreed it was lunchtime, and so they set off. To get lunch. Like it was a normal day on the job. Except it wasn’t a normal day at all. Lucifer had been blocked from his part of the job and instead left to tend the desk like he was Daniel or one of the other lesser officers. Chloe knew he was truly the Devil and not the living embodiment of a metaphor. And, to add insult to injury, they were forced into ordering McDonald’s for lunch.

All because of a three year old baby angel whose very existence was the antithesis of normal.

It was mid-afternoon before Ella finally arrived at her lab. Lunch was long over, and so was Rory’s interest in police work. Lucifer would’ve gladly bought every candy bar in the vending machine if it would keep the girl quiet, but Chloe insisted on limiting the girl’s sugar. Which meant the bag of animal crackers she was allowed was not enough to satiate her boredom on its own. No, the vexing infant also required his lap to hop onto since Lucifer refused to give up his seat again. Even that offense could’ve still been ignored, but her razor-sharp tailbone dug into his thigh with every slight movement as she chewed her way through the animal crackers in the noisiest, messiest, and slowest way possible.

The relief he felt, then, at seeing Ella’s bouncing black ponytail cross by was indescribable.

“Finally!”

He alerted the Detective of Ella’s arrival and tried to shoo the infant off his lap. When that failed, he used his size advantage to plop her on the floor and rushed over to the lab.

“Ms. Lopez!”

Ella had oddly closed the door behind her, but he didn’t let that slow him. A quick twist of the handle and he was inside—

— where he promptly tripped as Rory cut in front of him. It took far too many ungraceful hops to avoid kicking the girl in the head.

“Warn a person before you cut them off, child,” he complained once he regained his balance. “You’re practically invisible at ground level.”

Chloe stepped up behind them and scooped up Rory. “Here we go, monkey. I got you.”

Rory giggled and shot Lucifer a gloating look. Lucifer replied in what he assumed was her native language by sticking his tongue out at her. That just stretched her grin wider. The little terror was unflappable. How could he be expected to communicate with such a stubborn creature? Let alone be responsible for her well-being. It was absurd!

“Ms. Lopez, please tell me you have the DNA results so I can be free of this infuriating burden.”

Ella simply stared at them, clearly startled by their chaotic entrance. “Uh… hi guys.”

“Yes, hello. You’ve been gone all day and haven’t replied to a single one of my texts, so I’m not in the mood for chit-chat,” Lucifer said. “Now, I repeat: do you have proof I’m not a father?”

Chloe interjected, “Actually, I’m hoping you have more information on those hairs we found at our victim’s apartment.”

Lucifer groaned. “Nobody cares about the case, Detective. We have bigger things to worry about right now.”

“Those hairs might finally give us a lead,” Chloe said. “In case you haven’t noticed, we don’t have any of those right now.”

“We also don’t have any leads on this walking, talking error.” Lucifer gestured at Rory. “In case you haven’t noticed.”

Chloe fixed him with that frustrating look that said she disagreed with him. So, Lucifer cocked his head and glared back his disagreement over her disagreement because if she thought he would ever buy having the same wing color as definitive proof of parenthood, she was sorely mistaken.

“Aunt Ella, guess what?” Rory giggled. “I’ve got a really good secret.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “You don’t even know what a secret is. You’ve barely been alive.”

The infant gave him an arrogant smirk like she knew every single secret in the world but would never, ever tell him a single one because she enjoyed lording that knowledge over him. And then she confirmed that impression when she said, “I know lots of secrets.”

He turned back to Chloe. “I want to be very clear that I have never strangled a child before, but obviously that’s only because I’ve never been forced to spend this much time around one!” He ended this statement with a deadly glare at the infant that might have flashed red if it had been five months earlier.

“Oh-kay, we’re all a little tired and cranky today, so let’s just take a breath.” Chloe placed her hand on his chest (what the fuck?) and stepped around him to put some distance between him and the troublesome infant. “Ella, do you have any DNA results for us: either for the case or about Rory?”

Ella flicked her still stunned eyes between Lucifer and the Detective. Then, she shook her head and said, “Nope.”

“Are they in process yet?” Chloe asked.

“Uh…” Another head shake. “Nope.”

Lucifer frowned at this strange behavior. “Are you alright, Ms. Lopez?”

“Sure,” Ella said.

“Are you, though?” Lucifer asked. “You didn’t eat some tainted food or wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning? No one’s placed a curse on you limiting what you’re able to say?”

With perhaps a shade more confusion, but no other visible change to her expressionless face, Ella asked, “What do you mean?”

Lucifer said, “Why are you speaking in single syllables? You’re normally much more verbose than this.”

“Uh….” Again, like an animal caught in a trap, Ella flicked her eyes between him and the Detective. Then, with a shrug, she said, “I’m fine. Really — look, really! That’s two syllables.”

Now, Chloe frowned too. “Ella, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Ella said. “Just busy… with cases… murders… you know, the usual.”

She backed up as she spoke. When she hit her desk, her hands whipped behind her to latch onto a folder that rested there.

Chloe leaned around her to read it. “Is that Rory’s test results?”

“No,” Ella said. Then, just as quickly, she added, “Maybe. It’s empty, though. It’s not done.”

“That folder is not empty,” Lucifer pointed out. He could see there were papers inside it even standing on the other end of the lab table.

“Well, what do the results say?” Chloe asked. “Are they related?”

“Did I say empty? I meant inconclusive.” Ella’s grip tightened on the folder as she pulled it further behind her back. “The results were inconclusive. So, sorry! I don’t have answers for you.”

Lucifer refused to accept this. “Inconclusive is just another word for no, so… I’m not the father, then?”

“Inconclusive isn’t a yes or a no,” Chloe said. Rory grew restless so Chloe set her back on the floor and asked Ella, “What did the results look like? Was there some sort of error? Something missing? Did something come up as not human?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. Amenadiel’s fretting had rubbed off on the Detective after all. He’d told her there was nothing to worry about. His DNA couldn’t prove angels existed.

(Probably couldn’t prove that. After all, when was the last time Amenadiel had been right about anything?)

“Yes or no are the only options,” he argued. “’Maybe I’m the father’ isn’t possible.”

Ella replied, “Right, yeah, that’s true. Um, when I say the results were inconclusive, I mean they were very, confidently conclusive — and also super wrong, so we’ll just throw them out and not think about them ever again. Sound good?”

“What?”

“I’ll be happy to test again with new swabs!” Ella rushed on. “In fact, I insist on doing that, but first I’m going to have tear apart my machines and triple check everything is working correctly, because this,” she scoffed, “this should not have happened.”

“Retest? You’ve got to be kidding me!” Lucifer’s protests were interrupted by a tiny hand tugging on his trousers. He glared down at the infant. “What do you want?”

“Can I tell Aunt Ella my secret?” Rory asked.

“No,” he said for no reason other than spite. He didn’t know what this big secret was that she was so proud of, and quite frankly, he didn’t care.

Rory fell into a manipulative pout. “Can I tell her at home?”

Lucifer squatted down to reach the infant’s level. “If you can take yourself home right this very second, you can do whatever you’d like.”

The girl pouted for exactly four more seconds before opting for a more friendly target. “Mommy!” She ran over and hugged Chloe’s leg. Chloe automatically dropped her hand to Rory’s head to soothe her, but she kept her attention on Ella.

“Okay, I need to see these results before you start taking anything apart,” she said. “Why do you think it’s the machines and not the samples that are the problem?”

Ella shrugged, “Because the results came out totally normal. They’re just obviously wrong.”

A ray of hope beckoned Lucifer forward. “They do say I’m the father, don’t they? And of course, I’m not. Thank you, Ms. Lopez! I knew you were on my side.”

With a wince, Ella said, “That’s not why they were wrong.”

“If they say I’m not the father, then who are you to question it?” Lucifer demanded. “Are you a woman of science or not? You have to trust what the results say!”

Chloe said, “Ella, just let us see the results.”

“Fine,” Ella sighed. Then, she sternly pointed at both the Detective and him. “But you two can’t get mad at me. I already said these are inconclusive.”

“Ella.”

Reluctantly, she handed the file over to Chloe. Lucifer rushed around the lab table (sidestepping Rory so the infant wouldn’t trip him up this time) and leaned over the Detective’s shoulder to read. All he saw were random groupings of letters arranged in columns with no actual words written anywhere. It was less a report and more a half-assed cipher meant to decode a secret message.

“What is this gibberish?”

“Genetic sequencing of DNA,” Chloe said dryly. “Weren’t you just bragging this morning about how your mom invented DNA?”

“Key word being ‘invented’ not named,” Lucifer said. “You humans are who placed all these labels on it. What is this supposed to mean?”

“Oh well, this word,” Chloe shifted the folder and pointed to a perfectly legible English word at the bottom of the page, “says ‘Relation’ and this word says ‘Father’. Together, it means you’re Rory’s father.”

He could’ve read that himself if the Detective’s arm hadn’t been in the way. “Ms. Lopez already said these results are wrong,” he said, both to wipe the smug look off of Chloe’s face and to soothe his own wave of panic.

“There’s nothing wrong with this report,” Chloe said. “Everything looks completely normal.”

Ella sighed. “Flip ahead.”

Chloe frowned and flipped to the second report tucked inside. This time, Lucifer didn’t bother trying to interpret the DNA sequencing and skipped straight down to the bottom of the page.

Relation: Mother.

“Ha!” He pointed at it and said, “You see, completely wrong.”

“You ran my sample?” Chloe leaned forward like a closer reading would change what the page said. It wouldn’t. The words were written as plain as day.

“Yes, and it says you’re the girl’s mother.” Lucifer grinned. “I don’t know what you were so worried about, Ms. Lopez. This looks plenty conclusive to me.”

“But I’m not her mother.”

“Well, that DNA test is pretty damn sure you are,” Ella said.

“But that’s impossible!” Chloe argued.

“I know!” Ella hissed. She checked through the lab windows for potential eavesdroppers and then waved Chloe and Lucifer closer. “Which begs the question: how many of our other ‘conclusive’ results are actually totally bogus? What if our machines are broken? What if they’ve been broken for months?”

Chloe said, “We have dozens of cases pending right now that are relying on DNA evidence.”

“Exactly!”

“Hm, yes, that does sound like quite the problem for you,” Lucifer said. He swiped the folder from Chloe. “However, this says the infant isn’t my problem anymore which is the best news you could’ve given me!”

“And just how are you coming to that conclusion?” Chloe asked.

“It says we’re both her parents,” Lucifer said. “But we both that’s not true — unless you’re willing to admit to cheating on Dan and having a secret child without his knowledge?”

Chloe glared. “Obviously, I didn’t.”

“Right, and obviously I’m not her father because as I’ve been saying this entire time, it’s impossible for angels to have children. Therefore, the test is wrong. Thank you very much for your help, Ms. Lopez, but there’s no need for a redo. The case is solved.” Lucifer put on a smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to celebrate my newfound freedom.”

“Oh, no.” Chloe shoved past him and closed the lab door before Lucifer could leave. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Detective.”

“Lucifer!”

The thin grip he had on his panic and frustration finally snapped. “What’s the problem? You wanted to be rid of me anyway, didn’t you? Well, here’s your chance, Detective! No more big, scary angels popping in to ruin your life anymore! You’re home free!”

For a long moment, Chloe peered up at him, her eyes narrowed, brow slightly furrowed. It was the exact same expression Rory had worn earlier when she was focused on her coloring. Seeing it on the Detective just cranked up Lucifer’s urge to run. He had exactly one shot to escape this day with a clear-cut answer to the thirty pound problem that had been plaguing him all weekend. He needed those DNA results to mean no, without caveat, without needing to test again. He needed Rory to not be his daughter, and he especially needed to get out of this situation before that deep-seated terror returned to Chloe’s eyes. He couldn’t bear to see that look on her face again. If Rory wasn’t his daughter, then the mystery was over. Chloe would no longer have any obligation to be around him. She wouldn’t have to be afraid anymore.

“Ella, can you watch Rory for a minute?” Chloe finally said, eyes not leaving his. “I need to talk to Lucifer.”

“Um, sure I can watch her.” Alarm jumped into Ella’s voice as she said, “Oh, not that cabinet! Nope. There are sharp things in there.”

“Ooo!” Rory squealed happily.

Ignoring the infant’s continued fascination with all bladed objects, Chloe tugged on Lucifer’s arm. “Come on.” She led him out of the lab, past the officer cubicles, and then turned them down the hallway. Halfway down, she pulled him into a windowless room that must rarely see a broom. The thin layer of dust coating the floor and the walls of dingy, grey filing cabinets made the room look like it was from 1976 and not 2016 when this building was built.

“Sorry, did I say the word ‘angels’ too loudly back there,” Lucifer said, sarcastically. He braced himself for whatever lecture the Detective had prepared.

“Look,” Chloe began, “I know you’re upset about the DNA results.”

“On the contrary, I’m thrilled with the DNA results,” Lucifer said. “They prove I was right. I’m not the girl’s father.”

“Okay, and what if they had said that? What if the results had come back and said you’re absolutely not her father, no question about it. What would you do?”

“Celebrate. I already told you.”

“And just leave Rory to fend for herself?” Chloe asked. “Or would you call your sister back and let her take her?”

Lucifer frowned. “Of course, I wouldn’t do that. Remiel knows even less than I do about taking care of a child.”

“Then what, a foster home, then? Rory’s an angel. What do you think is going to happen the first time she shows her wings to someone? Because, spoiler, it won’t be good.”

He wavered. ‘Not his problem’ was what he wanted to say. But it was his problem, wasn’t it? Rory was somehow both an angel and a mortal. Angels weren’t supposed to be on Earth (according to every one of his conceited siblings), but, equally, mortals weren’t supposed to be in Heaven. Not unless they had died, and the infant was very much alive. Which meant there wasn’t a place in all of Creation for a mortal angel. Dear old Dad hadn’t bothered planning for such a thing. So, where was Rory supposed to go?

Lucifer’s stomach sank. Only he had spent enough time around humans to care for a mortal angel. That meant he and the infant were stuck with each other, whether they liked it or not. The DNA results didn’t matter, something the Detective had already worked out.

But… while he and the infant might be stuck, Chloe wasn’t. She could still walk away. She deserved that chance.

“The Urchin comes home tonight, doesn’t she?”

The change in subject threw off Chloe.

Lucifer continued, “It’s your night with her again. So, you should go home and get ready for your own daughter. The infant and I can handle things from here.”

Chloe shook her head. “Okay, why have you switched to pushing me away? I know you’re scared about possibly being Rory’s dad—”

“No, you’re right,” Lucifer interrupted. “I don’t have a choice about taking care of Rory. She’s an angel. She’s my responsibility — but she isn’t yours, so you don’t have to worry about her anymore.”

Slowly, Chloe replied, “Lucifer, I’m not leaving you all alone with a three year old again.”

“I’m not going to hurt the child,” Lucifer said impatiently. “Yes, I’m the Devil, but I’m not evil.”

“I know that. What are you—” Chloe cut herself off. She stared at him in that same puzzling way and then said, “I trust you with Rory. I’m not trying to say that I don’t.”

He rolled his eyes. “Please, the infant doesn’t even trust me.”

“She’s still getting to know you, but you must have noticed how she’s warmed up to you today.”

“I’ve noticed less crying,” Lucifer said. Not exactly a winning endorsement, that.

“Yes, and that was before you saved her from an angel who tried to kidnap her,” Chloe said. “Rory may be three, but she understands what happened this morning. She knows someone tried to do something bad, and you stopped them. You protected her. She trusts you a lot more now.”

“But you don’t.” Thickly, Lucifer swallowed. The conversation they’d been ignoring all day finally crashed down on him. “I know you’re terrified of me.”

Chloe frowned. “No, I’m not.”

“Of course, you are. You were petrified this morning.”

“Yeah, I was scared because your sister broke in out of nowhere holding this really scary spear.”

“Before that,” Lucifer said. “This morning in the kitchen, you weren’t angry at me. You were scared. And the other night when you saw my wings, you ran — fled, really, because you were that scared of me.”

Chloe fumbled a denial. “No, that…. I was….” But she couldn’t deny it, because Lucifer was right. He knew he was right. The Detective was terrified now that she knew he was the Devil, and the only reason she was speaking to him at all was because she couldn’t bring herself to turn her back on a helpless child.

So, if she wouldn’t let herself off the hook, Lucifer would do it for her. He shoved back down his own emotions and squared his shoulders to say, “It’s alright, I can handle the infant. You don’t have to force yourself to help anymore.”

“I’m not forcing myself to do anything,” Chloe said, still fighting to find her words. “I…. Lucifer….”

“Really, your conscience is clear, Detective.” Lucifer tried to smile but it came out thin. “Everything’s fine.”

Chloe shook her head. “I’m not scared of you — I was,” she quickly added before Lucifer could argue. “Yes, you’re right, okay? I was scared when I first learned the truth, but I’m not anymore.”

“Why, because I stopped an angel-napping?” Lucifer said, not believing her for a second. He’d seen the fear in her eyes. He’d seen it and would never, in all his days, forget it.

“Because you don’t lie,” Chloe said.

Lucifer blinked.

Chloe continued, “Look, I know I haven’t been handling this well. It isn’t just because you’re the actual Devil. It’s because everything I thought I knew about how the world works has suddenly flipped upside down. Heaven and Hell and angels are all real, and yes, that terrifies me. Of course, it does. I mean, your dad is God. God is actually real! And that’s… that’s a whole existential crisis waiting to happen — but you… you, Lucifer Morningstar, don’t scare me. You never really did. It just took me a little bit to remember that.”

He didn’t have to smother his hope to keep it from rising. There wasn’t any hope to rise. What the Detective was saying was complete rubbish — wonderful, better than anything he could have wished for, but rubbish all the same.

“How could I not scare you?”

“You’ve always told me the truth,” Chloe said. “And yes, maybe it wasn’t always the whole truth, but you’ve never lied to me. Which means you’re still the same partner I’ve worked with for the last three years, the same one who always has my back, who’s always cared about making sure the right people get brought to justice. I didn’t believe you were the Devil until this weekend, but I’ve always known who you are. So no, I’m not scared of you, and yes, I still trust you.”

Oh. His preference for only telling the truth, even to humans (especially to humans), had always been dismissed as a quirk by his siblings, and then later, they had derided it as another rebellion. It had been a rebellion, in a way. A conscious effort to not be like their father who rarely ever spoke to them, and when he did, only gave them empty and vague words. The truth may not always be pleasant, but it could never be empty.

No one had ever interpreted his inability to lie as a sign of innate goodness. It felt disconcerting for Chloe to do so now. He hadn’t done anything to earn back her trust. Stopping his sister from taking Rory seemed like such a small thing in comparison to being the Devil.

“Then, you’re also still willing to help with the infant?” he asked.

“Yes,” Chloe said. “We’re in this together. That’s what partners mean, remember?”

The constraints in his chest released, and Lucifer breathed a little easier. It was hope’s work, though he didn’t want to acknowledge it as such. It wasn’t that long ago that hope had burned him (thank you Dad and your twisted meddling). So he wasn’t about to trust this feeling — but maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to argue with it either.

“Although, you did bring up a good point. Trixie is coming home tonight,” Chloe said. “What are the chances that another one of your siblings is going to attack?”

The conversation pivot renewed Lucifer’s worries. “Attack to get the girl? Nearly zero. My siblings aren’t exactly ones for teamwork. Most likely, Remiel didn’t even tell anyone about the infant. She just sensed her presence and took action on her own.”

Chloe mulled this over for a moment too long.

“What?” Lucifer prompted.

“Nothing,” Chloe said. “I’m just starting to understand how you can grasp the rules of Monopoly but then struggle with Munchkin.”

“I understood the game just fine. It’s about backstabbing.”

“And cooperation.”

“Only to obscure the backstabbing.” Lucifer huffed. “Not like it matters. Your daughter cheats at both.”

“Oh yeah, she’s ruthless.” Chloe smiled, and Lucifer wondered if she pulled him into an argument about board games on purpose to ease the tension. If so, it had worked.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” she continued. “We’ll get Rory, we’ll head back to my place, and then I’m going to shower because I haven’t gotten to all weekend and I feel disgusting.”

Lucifer quipped, “Actually, I like the greasy-haired look. It’s very Sports Illustrated: Swimsuit Edition just with more clothes.”

“Ha.” Chloe smirked. “Then when Trixie gets home, we can get dinner for the girls and then… that’s probably too many steps ahead already when children are involved. So, we’ll figure out the rest of the evening from there, okay?”

Tentatively, Lucifer nodded. “Okay, then.”

The shower did its job and successfully washed away the grime and stress of the weekend. Unfortunately, it also left Chloe exhausted and suffering a terrible headache. Who knew not showering was the only thing keeping her upright?

Take a breath. There were still too many hours left in the day, but she could get through them. The second Trixie was asleep in bed, Chloe could pass out too. Until then, she'd just have to keep doing her best.

Thankfully, she hadn't heard any crying or stomping from downstairs as she had showered. Just like at the precinct, Rory's separation anxiety didn't trigger when Chloe moved to a different room. That and Rory really had warmed up to Lucifer. Chloe hadn't said that just to reassure him -- although, she might be wrong about the cause. Rather than trusting him for protecting her, it was equally possible that seeing Lucifer in a fight had raised Rory’s opinion of him. This morning, while Chloe had been worriedly checking the girl for an injury and listening for signs that the sibling brawl was drifting towards the spare bedrooms, Rory had been rattling on and on about Lucifer’s fighting moves and craning her neck back for another look. The kid sure handled angelic chaos better than Chloe did.

Too bad something had gone wrong with the DNA test. Chloe wanted a definitive outcome as much as Lucifer did. Waiting in limbo for anything sucked, but this time there was a young child’s life at stake. Rory and Lucifer both deserved definitive answers so they could adjust and move forward with their new life. They should be in the accepting phase by now instead of still waiting around.

Chloe was certain Lucifer’s DNA test was accurate, but she knew she’d never convince him of that when the same test also claimed she was the girl’s mother. Had it said that because Rory was an angel? Would any human have shown up as a relation or had Rory imprinted on her specifically when she’d shown up at the precinct? Could an angel speak reality into existence? What if Rory had rewritten her DNA the second she’d called Chloe ‘mommy’?

Sure. Because that didn’t sound ridiculous at all. Yikes, no wonder she couldn’t find a lead on the Pillegi case. Her brain was too fried to even remember what reality was.

She shook the thoughts away and headed for the stairs — but a sound in the hallway drew her up short. Chloe paused and listened for it to repeat. It had sounded like a scuff of a shoe or a piece of furniture moving, but no one should be upstairs with her. Lucifer and Rory were in the living room downstairs. Chloe could hear the TV playing.

To her right, Maze's bedroom door stood slightly ajar. The gap was only an inch, but Chloe could have sworn she had closed it tight after Rory had barged inside. Had the girl snuck back upstairs?

No. She giggled too much when she thought she'd gotten away with something. If Rory was upstairs, Chloe would hear her. Instead, the hall stayed silent. She must have just imagined the scuffing noise, then. Chloe pulled the bedroom door shut again and continued on downstairs.

As she expected, Lucifer and Rory sat on the couch. From the voices speaking through the TV, it seemed they were watching another episode of Fringe. Well, Rory was watching Fringe. Lucifer's eyes were glued to his phone.

"Sure, that's what I meant by watching Rory," Chloe said.

She grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and then fetched the Tylenol bottle from the cabinet.

"Fringe was her request," Lucifer said.

"I mean staring at your phone instead of making sure she doesn't sneak off again. I'm sure Maze has hidden knives around here too."

Lucifer said, "Of course, she has. I can see three just from where I'm sitting. But I'll have you know, what I'm reading is entirely relevant. It's a child development book Dr. Linda recommended."

Chloe swallowed her painkillers and frowned at the living room. How the hell could Maze have hidden multiple knives in there? Chloe had just vacuumed the living room on Thursday, and she hadn't seen anything. Did Maze shift them around based on the cleaning schedule?

Curious now, Chloe walked over and checked behind the TV.

"Cold," Lucifer said.

She huffed. "Okay, so where are they?"

Lucifer looked up from his phone. "I’m not going to tell. The last time I pointed one out, Maze nearly took my arm off. Apparently, identifying the hiding spots is training for her little protege."

Tiredly, Chloe said, "Well, as long as Trix is getting a well-rounded education.” She gestured at Rory. "Is that also how she's been trained?"

“I doubt it," Lucifer said. "According to this book, three year olds and ten year olds are in completely different stages of development."

That should be painfully obvious to anyone with two seconds of experience around children — but parenting was new to Lucifer, so Chloe would let him work this stuff out on his own. In fact, she should be cheering. Taking the initiative to read a child development book was a promising sign he was taking the possibility of fatherhood seriously.

The front door burst open without a warning knock, and the aforementioned ten year old dashed over the threshold.

“Mom, we’re here!” Trixie announced. She promptly ran into her bedroom without so much of a glance towards her mother. Chloe exchanged smirks with Dan as he entered the apartment and closed the door Trixie had left flung wide open behind her.

“We’re really at this stage already?” she asked.

Dan shrugged. “She walked herself to the park when she was five. Who needs parents after that?”

“I said hi,” Trixie argued as she re-emerged from her room.

“No, you didn’t, and I want a hug, too.” Chloe captured her daughter before she could run off again. Trixie jokingly protested but ultimately hugged her back.

“Hi, Mommy. How are you?”

“That’s better.” Chloe kissed the side of Trixie’s head and then released her. “Did you guys have a fun weekend?”

“Yeah, we always do,” Trixie said, eyes already turning back to the living room, likely distracted by the TV playing. But then, she registered who else was in the living room and squealed. “Lucifer’s here!”

And she was off again. Dan pointed after her and said, “Bet he’s gonna get a hug.”

“Hm, whether he likes it or not,” Chloe agreed.

It was very much a ‘not’ for Lucifer. The second Trixie squealed, he shot up from the couch in alarm. He retreated, but the apartment was only so wide and he swiftly got himself cornered against the wall.

“No, stay back! Stay!” he warned as Trixie ran for him.

A second squeal rose from the couch. Just when Trixie was about to throw her arms around Lucifer, a speedy little toddler tackled Trixie with a hug and stopped her in her tracks.

“Teeyou’rehome! You’rehome! Tee!”

Lucifer blinked at the last second save. He looked first at Trixie who was too stunned to move and then at Rory who bounced up and down with more excitement than her little body could contain. Then, he looked up at Chloe still watching from the kitchen island.

“Were you aware you could turn the little horrors against each other?” he asked. “Is this why people have multiple children by choice?”

Dan moved to stand by Chloe so he could take in the scene better. “Uh… who’s the toddler?”

“Question of the weekend,” Chloe said, pointedly. Dan gave her a look that said he suspected there was a story there. She nodded to confirm that oh yeah, there was definitely a story with that. More story than she could even tell him, in fact.

Trixie attempted to gently pull free from Rory’s grip, but the giddy little girl just hugged her harder.

Chloe called out, “Rory, baby, I know you’re excited, but you need to let go, okay? Give Trixie a chance to breathe, please.”

Rory obeyed, though her idea of breathing room was about two inches. She continued to bounce in place and grinned up at Trixie like she’d hung the moon.

“Rory?” Trixie looked up at Lucifer. “Who’s Rory?”

“An impossibility we’re still trying to solve,” Lucifer replied.

“Uh huh.” Dan smirked like he’d already put the pieces together on his own. (Admittedly, they were very obvious pieces to everyone but Lucifer.) He asked, “What kind of impossibility?”

Lucifer scowled. “None of your business.”

Dan glanced at Chloe. Chloe answered in the affirmative with a slight arch of her eyebrows. It was meant to be a silent communication, but Lucifer still noticed.

“Drop that look from your face before I bring out the DNA results again.”

“So, there has been a DNA test,” Dan said, smirk returning.

Lucifer countered with his own shit-eating grin. “Yes, congratulate the Detective and I. We have a daughter.”

Unfazed, Dan replied, “Well, I know that’s not true.”

“No, it’s not.” Chloe narrowed her eyes at Lucifer. This wrong DNA test better not become a thing with him. Not when all their cases were being stalled while Ella checked over equipment that was, in all likelihood, working perfectly fine and it was Lucifer and Rory being angels that had corrupted the data.

“So, what happened?” Dan asked.

Chloe sighed. “I don’t know. The swabs got tampered with maybe? But Ella is panicking that our machines are broken.”

“Hold on. You took a DNA test and it said you were that girl’s mother?”

“Yeah, but it also said Lucifer was her father,” Chloe said. “which seems pretty true from where I’m standing.”

“Oh, of course, it is.” Lucifer held up the DNA report. “She’s ours, clearly.”

Oh good. This would definitely be a thing with him.

Dan was still confused. “Why were you even being tested?”

“Because Rory refused to be swabbed until we all did it,” Chloe explained.

“Ah, gotcha.” Dan nodded, remembering the time when their daughter did need parents to help her face the scary stuff.

“Although, I still don’t know why Ella bothered to run my sample,” Chloe said.

“We should be grateful that she did,” Lucifer said in a voice dripping with faux concern. “I mean how else would we know that the child isn’t simply confused when she calls you ‘mommy’?”

“Mommy!”

“Exactly like that.” Lucifer turned back to Rory. “Well done, infant. I wasn’t even trying to cue you.”

“Mommy!” Rory repeated in her ‘very concerned’ high-pitched register.

Chloe walked over to check on her. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I think she’s calling me short,” Trixie answered instead.

“What?”

Rory pointed. “Tee, shrinked.”

“No, she didn’t shrink.” Chloe explained, “This is my daughter, Trixie. Trixie, this is Rory.”

Trixie waved. “Hi, Rory.”

This wasn’t convincing enough for the little girl. Rory continued to frown as she scanned Trixie up and down. Then, she shook her head and repeated, “No, Tee shrinked!”

“Maybe you’re thinking of someone else, baby. No one shrank.”

Dan walked over and squatted down beside them. “Hi Rory. My name’s Dan. I’m Trixie’s dad.”

Rory’s jaw fell open. She stared at Dan for a long, long moment, unblinking. Then, after blinking once, she stared some more.

Dan leaned over to Chloe and murmured, “Is she okay?”

Chloe shook her head. She had never seen the girl stand so still before. “I don’t know. Rory, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Rory snapped out of it with a burst of energy. “It’syourdaddyTee!” She grabbed Trixie’s arm, jumping and pointing. “Looklook! It’syourdaddy! It’syourdaddy!”

Trixie was startled but amused. “Yep, that’s my daddy.”

“Yeah!” Rory squealed and spun back around to grin at Dan. In a crystal clear voice, she exclaimed, “I saved you!”

“Okay.” Dan chuckled. “Cool! Saved me from what?”

“From Heaven!”

Chloe shot back up to standing. She fixed Lucifer with a look, but his face remained frustratingly neutral as he pulled out his phone and didn’t acknowledge her concern at all.

“Um, okay,” Dan said. “Why was I in heaven?”

Rory’s grin disappeared. “Tee was really sad. You can’t go back there anymore, okay?”

“Uh… okay.” Dan clearly didn’t know where to take this game. Chloe wasn’t sure it was a game. When an angel said ‘heaven’, they meant it literally, right?

Rory nodded and patted Dan on the shoulder like she was the adult handing out advice. “Okay, you stay right here and never go back to Heaven again.”

“Yep, I’ll stay right here on Earth,” Dan said.

“Okay, good job.” Rory grinned again. “I saved you!”

Dan slowly nodded. “Thank you?”

“Thank you!” Then, Rory darted over and hid her face against Chloe’s legs.

Dan stood up. “Yeah, that seems about right for your kid,” he told Lucifer.

“She isn’t actually mine.”

He ignored Lucifer’s protests and turned to Chloe. “You got this?” he asked, indicating the two children (plus Lucifer).

“Yeah, she’s just….” But no excuse came to mind for Rory’s behavior so Chloe backtracked. “She’s fine.”

“Okay.” Dan still sounded skeptical. “Call me if you need help.” He glanced at Lucifer and added, “You too.”

Lucifer scoffed like the idea of calling Dan for help was even more absurd than discovering he had a toddler daughter he’d known nothing about. Dan exchanged goodbyes with Trixie. (Their daughter was still willing to give goodbye hugs without prompting. It seemed to just be the hello hugs she’d given up on.) Then, he headed for the door.

“No, no!” Rory darted after him before Chloe could grab her. “You can’t go back to Heaven now!”

Dan stopped. “No, it’s okay. I’m just going to my own house.”

Rory processed this. “Not Heaven?”

“Definitely not heaven.”

“Okay, good.” The girl nodded. “Because I saved you so you can’t go back.”

“Great.”

Dan looked over at Chloe who repeated, “She’s fine.” With one last skeptical glance, Dan left.

Rory stared at the closed door for another long moment before running back to cling to Chloe’s legs again. But she didn’t cry. Under the circumstances, it was hard to tell if that was a good thing or not. She had cried that first night when she made the sudden leap to believing Trixie was in heaven. Did not crying now mean Rory was healing or did it mean she was shutting down? Obviously, something tragic had happened to the girl. The repeated mentions of Heaven suggested someone had died, and once again, Chloe worried that it had been the girl’s mother.

(But then who had dropped her off at the precinct? Why had no one seen them arrive? Had the girl flown herself? Both Lucifer and Amenadiel said that was impossible, but were they really reliable experts when neither one of them had ever encountered a baby angel before?)

What Rory really needed was to talk to a counselor trained to work with traumatized children. The police had several they could call in for cases, but how could any of them help when they didn’t know Rory was an angel? That was crucial information that would’ve played a role in whatever had happened to the girl.

“So….” Trixie cut through the silence. “You have a daughter now?”

Lucifer finally deigned to look up from his phone. “Of course, I don’t. The infant’s a practical joke one or both of my parents have played on me.”

Trixie frowned. “Why would they do that?”

“Because God doesn’t have a sense of humor. Haven’t you ever heard that saying?”

“Nana says God has a sick sense of humor,” Trixie countered.

“He has no sense of humor. Trust me,” Lucifer said.

With a glance at Rory, Trixie grinned. “Yeah, she does seem more funny like you.”

“Your implication is the opposite of what I just said.”

But it was Lucifer’s turn to be ignored, as Trixie turned to the new toddler. “Come on, Rory. Do you want to see all my toys? I have some really cool ones I bet you’ll like.” Giddily, Rory took her hand, and together, the girls ran off laughing to Trixie’s room.

Huh, Chloe thought as she watched them leave. Well, at least one thing had been easy this weekend.

Chapter Text

Chloe didn’t know where Trixie’s ‘big sister’ energy had come from. Her daughter had never been fond of younger children before. She thought babies were cute, of course, and she would defend the smaller kids from getting bullied on the playground. But wanting to mother them or mentor them? Absolutely not. Trixie didn’t have the patience for that. She preferred to run after the bigger kids to join their games and then became infuriated when the little kids did the same to her. So for her to immediately take Rory under her wing was a pleasant surprise — and a welcomed diversion. After Rory’s latest outburst, Chloe desperately needed to speak with Lucifer alone.

Lucifer who was still buried in his phone.

She double checked the girls were happily settled and then snapped her fingers at Lucifer to get his attention.

“Hey, why is Rory going around saying she saved people from Heaven? What’s going on there?” she whispered.

Lucifer glanced at her. “Yes, that’s what I’m confirming.”

“What?”

He turned his phone around for her to see — although all she saw was a wall of text too small to read from two feet away.

“What is that?” she asked.

“Children learn through play.” Lucifer pointed to the screen.

“Ah, it’s your child development book.”

“Yes,” Lucifer said. “Children also process traumatic events through play.”

Chloe lowered her voice again. “So, you think someone died in Rory’s life, too?”

Lucifer frowned. “No, I’m talking about this morning.”

“I don’t follow.”

“An angel tries to steal the girl away to Heaven. Rory processes it by turning the tables and saying she saved Dan from Heaven, instead.” Lucifer smiled. “It turns out children’s thought processes are really quite simple. I suppose that makes sense when their brains are so underdeveloped.”

Huh. It was a good theory — the processing the attempted kidnapping part anyway. Children learning through play lined up with everything Chloe had experienced so far while raising Trixie. Rory’s knowledge of the world might be different from a human toddler, but she continued to behave exactly the same as any other child. In a way, it was a relief. Chloe wasn’t completely in over her head. Angels were out of her depth, but she knew how to handle children, at least.

“That’s pretty good. Did Linda have any other advice about Rory?”

“Oh, she just sent me some titles to read,” Lucifer said. “I didn’t tell her about the infant.”

“She didn’t ask why you were looking for child psychology advice?” It was out of character enough for Lucifer that it seemed like something Linda would’ve asked about.

Lucifer grinned. “No, I imagine she was rather distracted by my brother.”

It took Chloe an extra second to realize who he meant. “Your brother… Amenadiel?”

“Mm, they’re sleeping together now if Maze’s rants are anything to go by — though I confess there was a screaming infant at the time so I may have misunderstood.”

Okay. Sex was normally what was implied when Lucifer grinned like that, but Chloe was still shocked by the news.

“Linda and Amenadiel?” she repeated. “Should someone tell Linda that she’s now slept with two angels?”

She said that part mainly to herself, but Lucifer still answered. “Trust me, she’s well aware.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know Linda hasn’t forgotten who she’s slept with.”

“And she knows I’m the Devil.”

Chloe jolted. “What?”

“Yes, and that Amenadiel is an angel,” Lucifer said. “She knows everything.”

Okay this had just jumped into the five most shocking things to happen this weekend. “What do you mean she knows everything?”

“That she knows everything?” Lucifer gestured towards Trixie’s room where the girls played. “Except for the infant. Like I said, I haven’t told her about that yet, but I expect it will come up this week in our session.”

An indescribable swirl of tension whirled through Chloe. She couldn’t pin it down with a name. Pissed, maybe? Hurt? Something partway in between and fifty miles south?

“Am I the last person to find out the truth?” she asked.

Lucifer replied, “Technically, I told you first, but you didn’t believe me.”

“And Linda did?”

“No, she took convincing as well.”

Whatever that meant. “And, so what, now Linda is sleeping with Amenadiel, knowing full well that he’s an angel?”

That annoying grin returned. “Now, now, Detective. You shouldn’t be too scandalized.” He held up the cursed DNA results. “Apparently, you and I have slept together as well.”

Chloe ripped the folder from his hand and smacked him on the shoulder. She wasn’t in the mood for teasing with that emotional storm brewing in her chest. Still, she did her best to keep her feelings in check and redirected the conversation.

“Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t you go check if the girls are hungry for dinner — dad.”

“Oo, I would,” Lucifer said with an fake wince. “But there are two of yours in there and only one of mine, so by law of majority, you should ask them about dinner.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a fake-sweet smile. “Yeah, but you need the practice.”

They held their standoff for a few seconds before Lucifer finally heaved an exaggerated sigh.

“Fine. I’ll go check on your daughters.”

Chloe bit back her snarky reply. She told herself this was a good thing that he was joking about the DNA results. It meant he was one step closer to accepting he was a father. This was a good thing.

And once he did accept it, then Chloe could kick his ass.

A flurry of highly suspicious giggles arose as Lucifer stopped in the doorway of Trixie’s bedroom.

“What are they doing?” Chloe asked when he continued to stand there.

“Good news, Detective,” Lucifer called back. “It seems your daughter has solved our infant problem.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. Lucifer was way too calm for the girls to have done anything harmful, but still Chloe marched over to peer inside the room.

Trixie sat in the center of her bed, sporting a grin that stretched from ear to ear. A scattering of Barbie dolls, clothing, and accessories were spread out in an arc on the bedspread in front of her, presumably because she’d been showing them off to Rory. The toddler, herself, however was nowhere to be seen.

“Trixie, where’s Rory?”

Her daughter bit down on her lip to stop her laughter from breaking free and shrugged. Uh huh. So, most likely scenario, Trixie convinced the girl to hide somewhere, and thankfully that somewhere must still be in her bedroom. Rory was nearly as sneaky as Trixie when she was alone, but as Chloe had learned from every sleepover and party Trixie had ever hosted, when two or more children were together, they became much, much less sneaky.

Still, Trixie’s bedroom had a lot of hiding places — largely used for chocolate, but there were a few places big enough to squirrel away a three year old. Thankfully, she didn’t have to search long (or at all really), because the mountain of stuffed animals in the corner shook as the three year old in question failed to keep her own giggles in check. Chloe smirked.

“She could just stay in there,” Lucifer said. “I certainly won’t miss her.”

Lucifer would have to learn that it was always more fun to play along with the kids’ games. Chloe turned back to her daughter. “So, you have no idea where Rory could be, huh?”

“Nope,” Trixie said, nearly bursting with amusement.

The stuffed animal pile shifted again. An owl tumbled off to reveal Rory’s elbow.

“Oh, no!” Chloe ratcheted things up into full blown play-acting. “I guess we’re just going to have to look all over for her, then. Do you think she went under the bed?”

She was rewarded with another giggle from the stuffed animals. Trixie’s grin also widened. Her daughter was fully aware the play-acting was for Rory’s benefit, but that didn’t seem to lessen her enjoyment of the show.

Chloe continued, “What about the window? Do you think she climbed outside?” She added a gasp. “What if she’s made it all the way to beach already? Then, we’ll never find her.”

Lucifer huffed, obviously done with this game. He walked over to the pile of toys and plucked one from where Rory was hiding. He frowned when it didn’t reveal her.

“Where is your head, child?”

“Boo!”

He jumped as Rory sprung out of the toys six inches from where he’d looked. Chloe snorted while Trixie fell over on her bed laughing over the successful joke.

“I got you!” Rory grinned.

“Yes,” Lucifer growled. He sent an unamused glare to each of them.

Between giggles, Trixie replied, “It was all her idea. I didn’t do it.”

“I believe it.” Lucifer shooed Rory. “Get out of there, imp. It’s time to feed you again since you can’t feed yourself.”

“Dinner?” Trixie sat up.

“Yep,” Chloe confirmed. “Come on, let’s go pick something out.”

“Yes!” Trixie bounced her way off the bed and popped up by Lucifer.

“I love that you have a daughter now. This is going to make game night so much better,” she told him. Then, she reached down and tugged Rory out of the stuffed animals. “Come on, Rory. It’s dinner time!” And just like that, the two of them dashed off through the house again, giggling like they were in on a private joke that no adult could understand.

Lucifer stared after them in disbelief. “What was the meaning of that?”

“For the last time, Rory looks exactly like you and calls you ‘daddy,’” Chloe said. “Of course, Trixie is going to believe you’re her father.”

Lucifer turned his look of disbelief over to her. “And while I would expect better deductive skills from the child of two police officers, I meant what was the meaning of them turning against me? The little rugrats were supposed to be keeping each other occupied.”

Chloe pursed her lips together. Payback was really just so satisfying sometimes, wasn’t it? Satisfying enough that people had created a specific word for it. What was it again? Oh, right. Schadenfreude.

“Yeah… a little parenting tip for you, Lucifer.” Chloe took a step closer. “Sometimes, sure, multiple children in the house means they can entertain each other and leave you alone, but most of the time? What entertains them is ganging up on you and constantly keeping you outnumbered.”

“They can’t do that,” Lucifer stated as if it was an immutable fact and not a hopelessly flimsy argument that would never hold up in the face of reality.

Chloe shrugged. “It looks like they already did.”

“No, I already get enough of that from the Urchin teaming up with Maze!”

“Yeah.” Chloe patted him on the arm. “I know how it feels. They leave me out of all their fun, too.”

She left Lucifer to grumble to himself about how that was not what he had meant and headed into the kitchen where she had to confirm that no, ice cream bars were not appropriate for dinner and that the girls needed to put the box back in the freezer where they had found it.

Chloe could tease Lucifer all she liked, but supervising two children was just as exhausting and new for her as well. It would be a long night.

“Mommy?”

Chloe finished refilling the cup of water for Rory and snapped the lid back in place. She glanced at her daughter waiting patiently for her attention.

“Everything okay?”

Dinner had gone smoothly once she’d reestablished guidelines on what did and didn’t count as dinner food. Trixie continued to show more patience than she had ever shown around super young children before. She didn’t even get upset when Rory swiped food from her plate. Instead, she laughed and turned it into a game of who could steal the most food from Lucifer’s plate. He objected, of course, but the girls didn’t quit until Lucifer swapped his plate with Trixie’s and declared the game void.

After dinner, they had started a movie: Trixie’s pick without restrictions due to Rory’s age. Chloe figured it wasn’t fair to limit Trixie’s movie choices. The poor thing had already had her evening thrown into chaos with the presence of a guest. She should get control over one part of the night. Still, it must not have been enough if Trixie had followed her into the kitchen.

“I know it’s weird having to share things with Rory. I’m sorry I didn’t get to warn you before you got home.”

“Not really,” Trixie said. “Actually, I wanted to know if we could have a sleepover.”

Chloe frowned. “Trix, it’s a school night. You can’t have a friend come over.”

“No, I mean Rory.”

“You want to have a sleepover with Rory?” Chloe asked. Well, that was unexpected. Rory was a toddler, not a peer. It was one thing for Trixie to show patience with her. It was another thing entirely for her to suggest a sleepover.

Trixie replied, “Yeah, she can even sleep in my bed! And Lucifer can stay too, of course. I guess he can sleep on the couch.”

“Okay,” Chloe said, trying to figure out what her daughter’s angle was. “Well, that’s very nice of you, but Lucifer and I should probably talk about that first. We haven’t made plans for Rory tonight, and her stuff is still at his place.”

“But Mom.” Trixie gestured for her to come closer so Chloe leaned down. In a hushed but Very Serious voice, her daughter said, “Lucifer needs help — desperately.”

She choked back a laugh — at the sheer unexpectedness, but also at Trixie’s emphasis.

“I see. That’s an interesting observation, but what exactly does he need help with?”

Trixie sighed. “Look, Lucifer’s great. You know I love him — but he doesn’t know how to be a dad.”

The grin broke free, and Chloe fought to hide it again. “He does have a lot to learn,” she admitted. “But, to be fair, so does everyone when they first become parents.”

“Yes, but this is Lucifer! He’s our friend, and you always say we’re supposed to help our friends.”

“And so you want to have a sleepover.” Chloe still wasn’t sure where the dots connected.

“I don’t think he can handle Rory all on his own,” Trixie said. (Ah, there was the connection.) “If they stay with us, then you can teach him everything he needs to know about taking care of a baby, and I can teach him how to be a dad.”

“Oh, really?” Chloe chuckled again. “Um, do you have a lot of experience being a dad? Because I wasn’t aware of that.”

“No.” Trixie grinned. “But I have the best dad in the world. I’ll just teach Lucifer everything that Dad does with me!”

Oh! Chloe’s heart squeezed so tightly with adoration that tears welled up in her eyes. She blinked them away and made a mental note to tell Dan about this later.

“Well, I’m sure Lucifer will appreciate the help.” (And be so childishly annoyed that Dan was better than him at something.) “But he and I still have to discuss the sleepover idea before I say yes.”

“It’s okay, I’ll ask him!” Trixie dashed off to the living room before Chloe could stop her. “Lucifer! Are you okay with sleeping on the couch?”

Lucifer frowned at his phone instead of responding. He hadn’t stopped reading the child development books all evening and sometimes blurted out whatever random factoid he had discovered.

Like now.

“Detective, were you aware that infants swallow embryonic fluid when they’re still inside their mother?” His face scrunched into horror. “That’s one step away from the child eating their way out of the womb. What were my parents thinking?”

Chloe was spared from responding by Rory shoving a Barbie doll into Lucifer’s face. Impatiently, he batted it away. Undeterred, Rory shoved her Barbie right back into Lucifer’s chin again.

“Ninja!”

“Yes, I’ve seen it before actually. Now, knock it off.” He pushed the girl’s arm away again and leaned out of reach.

“Lucifer!” Trixie said.

“Yes, other loud child.” Lucifer turned his attention to her with a huff. “What were you shouting?”

“Do you want to sleep on the couch?” Trixie repeated.

“Nobody wants to sleep on a couch,” Lucifer said. “The couch is just for passing out on.”

Trixie chewed her lip in thought. “Yeah, I think you might be too tall for it. But maybe you can scrunch up?”

He turned his harried expression up to Chloe. “What is the little Urchin talking about?”

Chloe explained, “She’s jumping ahead of herself and making plans for you and Rory to stay here tonight. I told her we needed to talk about it first, but she didn’t listen.”

Offended, Lucifer turned back to Trixie. “Your plans had me stuck on the couch?”

“Well, you can’t sleep in Maze’s room,” Trixie said. “She’d kill you!”

“Why are we staying here?” Lucifer asked. “The infant’s things are still at my place.”

“I know, but Trixie’s things are here and she has school tomorrow,” Chloe said. “Besides, do you really want both a three year old and a ten year old running around your place?”

“I didn’t ask for the three year old period, but it seems we’re stuck with her for the time being.”

Trixie eyed this exchange with great interest. The wheels turned in her mind, and then the lightbulb flicked on.

“Wait… we could have a sleepover at Lucifer’s?” Trixie let out a squeal. “Are you serious? We can really do that?”

Lucifer blanched at the effusive enthusiasm. “You’re right. It’s a much better idea to stay here,” he told Chloe.

“Don’t you live in your nightclub?” Trixie asked.

“I live in the penthouse in the same building,” Lucifer corrected.

“The penthouse?” Trixie squealed again. “That’s so awesome! How many bedrooms do you have?”

“Five,” Lucifer said with a frown. “Why?”

“You have five bedrooms?”

“Yes, but you’re only allowed in three of them,” he added quickly.

“That will work. Look.” Trixie counted off, “One… two… three,” as she pointed at Chloe and then herself and then Rory.

Lucifer looked torn. On the one hand, he’d be allowing Trixie free reign of his penthouse. On the other, he would be stuck sleeping on the couch. He seemed to struggle with deciding which option was worse. When he looked up at Chloe for input, she just shrugged. He was right. Rory’s things were still at his place. It would be easier for Trixie to pack a bag than it would be to run out to fetch stuff for Rory.

And Trixie was certainly eager to have a penthouse adventure.

“Fine,” Lucifer gave in with a sigh. “You can stay at my place.”

“Yes!” Trixie cheered. “I’ll go pack.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Chloe called out as Trixie ran off for her room.

Trixie spun around, pleading, “But Lucifer said it was okay.”

“I know, I’m fine with that,” Chloe said. “But I need to warn you that staying at Lucifer’s means we’ll have a longer drive to school in the morning. You’ll have to wake up half an hour earlier if we’re going to get there on time.”

“I can do that,” Trixie said without a second of hesitation. When Chloe gave her a skeptical look, she added, “Mom, he has a penthouse. I’m going to sleep great!”

Chloe let her run off to pack, though she was still skeptical. Trixie was way too excited about this. She probably wouldn’t sleep a wink tonight.

Rory fiddled nervously with the velcro on the Barbie’s clothes.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Chloe said.

“Is Tee leaving again?” Rory asked.

“No.” Chloe sat down next to her on the couch. “She’s coming with us. We’re all going to stay the night at Lucifer’s again, just like we did last night. Is that okay?”

Rory considered it. “Tee’s coming too?”

“Yes,” Chloe said. “Trixie’s coming too.”

On cue, her daughter called from her bedroom, “Rory! You need to finish picking out the toys you want.”

Rory lit up in a grin. She pushed herself off the couch and sprinted over to Trixie’s room yelling, “I’m coming! I’m coming! I’m coming!”

“Remember to pack your clothes too,” Chloe called out. “I’d like you to be in bed by nine.”

“Nine?!” Trixie exclaimed as she peeked her head out of her room. “Are you serious?”

“If you’re going to wake up earlier, then you need to go to sleep earlier,” Chloe said. “That’s the deal if you want to go to Lucifer’s.”

Trixie eagerly nodded. “Okay. Nine is good. I can do nine.”

Chloe scoffed. They’d be lucky to get her in bed by ten.

“How much am I going to wish I was in Hell again with this sleepover?” Lucifer asked.

“Mm, you’re the Devil. You’d have to tell me.”

Five minutes too late, her brain connected the dots back to this morning’s events.

“Oh, crap! We can’t stay with you. Your place is wrecked!”

Lucifer frowned. “No, it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is.” Chloe lowered her voice. “You had an angel attack you this morning, remember?”

“Yes, and it wasn’t the first time that’s happened,” Lucifer said. “I have cleaners and furniture movers on retainer.”

Chloe gaped. “Seriously?”

Lucifer replied, “I usually require their assistance for much more entertaining reasons, but they come in handy for impromptu sibling visits as well.”

A clattering, rain of toys erupted from Trixie’s bedroom. Chloe recognized the noise instantly. It was the sound of Trixie’s tub of L.O.L. dolls being poured onto the floor, and she shouldn’t be hearing it if the girls were really packing.

“So… Mr. Five Bedroom Penthouse,” Chloe said, “you wouldn’t want to send those cleaners over here, would you?”

Lucifer frowned. “Those toys sounded small enough for the infant to choke on. The books are very clear she’s still in the dangerous age for choking.”

Chloe groaned. “I’ll take care of it.”

The floor of Trixie’s bedroom had transformed into a complete disaster zone, the likes of which was usually reserved for Christmas and birthdays. Two identical sets of eyes guiltily stared up at Chloe as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“If you want this sleepover to happen, then you need to pack,” she told Trixie. “Come on, let’s get a move on.”

Trixie scrambled into action. “I’m moving! I’m moving!”

“And tomorrow, you’re cleaning all of this up.”

Even with supervision, it took another twenty minutes for her daughter to pack her bag. Then, they required three trips to load everything in the car because Rory needed to use the bathroom at the last minute and Trixie nearly forgot her backpack. But eventually, they were all buckled in the car and ready to head out.

“Yes, I can confirm,” Lucifer said from the passenger seat. “This is worse than Hell.”

Chloe smiled. “You haven’t actually seen the worst of it yet.”

The front door closed for what would be the final time. Maze waited another ten minutes to be sure, but when no one returned, she finally stepped out of her bedroom.

They’d had dinner… watched TV… played with what seemed to be every toy Trixie owned and not once — not once — had anyone thought to check on her.

She tried to tell herself that Chloe was scared of her. That theory had satisfied her the first time when Chloe had ran in and out of the apartment so fast, it was like demons were already after her. But then she had come back. And stayed. For over two hours before leaving again.

With Lucifer. All of it had been with Lucifer.

The voices had been muffled with her sequestered away in her bedroom, but Maze was a demon. She knew when the Lord of Hell was sneaking around somewhere. (Or not sneaking at all, in this case.)

He could’ve just been groveling, pleading, and whining to get back into Chloe’s good graces. Maze knew full well that Lucifer couldn’t cope when his precious Detective was mad at him, and Chloe learning the truth about him would’ve led to one Hell of a fight (pun intended).

Except they hadn’t been fighting! Or groveling, so what the fuck was Lucifer doing here for hours?

Eating dinner. Watching TV. Like it was a normal night. How could that happen? Had Chloe gotten over the shock of Lucifer being the Devil already?

Maze scoffed. It had taken Linda weeks to stop being weird around Lucifer. There’s no way Chloe would take less time, if she got over it at all. Then what, had Lucifer found a way to convince her it was all a mistake and he wasn’t the Devil after all? Of course, Chloe would be that gullible.

But that explanation didn’t sit well either. Lucifer would’ve told her that the threat was over. And if Chloe did still believe he was the Devil, then she would’ve confronted Maze to try and kick her out. Neither had happened. Even Trixie hadn’t questioned her absence. Maze had been so sure once she’d heard Trixie come home that the girl would come to her aid. Maze had geared up for a deliciously tense fight where Chloe pretended she wasn’t shitting herself while giving weaker and weaker excuses for why Trixie could no longer be friends with Maze, and Trixie casually dismissed every single one because the kid was the smartest and strongest human Maze had met. And when Chloe finally broke and blurted out that Maze was a demon, Trixie wouldn’t even blink. She’d just grin and ask to see her demon face again and then laugh alongside her while her mother ran screaming out of the apartment.

But that hadn’t happened either. Instead, Trixie had ran off happily with Chloe — and Lucifer — to go wherever it was they were going, and she’d never even thought to check if Maze was home.

Pain sliced through her. With a yell, her arm whipped forward and she flung her ever-present demon blade across the room. It embedded itself into the front door with a smooth and deadly ‘thunk’ right above the peephole.

Screw them. Screw them all! If they didn’t need her, then she sure as hell didn’t need them either.

Maze stomped back upstairs to grab her stuff — her keys, some money. She wasn’t moving out. That would make it too easy on Chloe. But she wasn’t going to wait around like a puppy in a kennel crying for its owner to come back either.

On her way out, she shoved another knife into the side of the doorframe. It was the wrong side of the door to act as a barricade, but it would suffice as a warning to those who might try and throw out her things. Then, as an extra fuck you, she crossed the hall and sliced open Chloe’s pillow.

(The sting of it was Chloe probably wouldn’t even notice.)

Lucifer should’ve said no to this idea of a sleepover at his place. Better yet, he should’ve said yes to Trixie’s original plan and then left the infant behind with the Detective to sleep in his own bed without interruption. If he had, he wouldn’t be trapped in an elevator with two small children competing to see who could give him a bigger migraine.

Technically, the spawn were engaged in a jumping contest. Trixie had confidently informed the infant that when you jumped on an elevator, you didn’t fall down because the elevator caught up to you, and now both children were trying to prove it.

“Is this the result of spending too much time with Daniel?” Lucifer asked. “Is he a horrible parent who locks her in her room all day and now she has too much energy?”

Chloe sighed. “No, she’s trying to show off.”

“No, I’m not,” Trixie countered. She performed another tuck jump and landed with a thunderously loud thud. Rory giggled and attempted to mimic her with minimal success.

“Trixie.” Chloe leaned down to look her daughter in the eye. “You need to stop jumping.”

“But I’m trying to teach Rory physics,” Trixie said.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, your mother’s right. You have the physics completely wrong,” Lucifer said.

Chloe shot him a look. “That wasn’t my point.”

“It’s my point,” he said. “Why bother sending her to school when they don’t even do their one, alleged, job of teaching the child?”

“Hey!” Rory snapped at him (which was startling on many levels). “Tee’s really smart!”

“Yeah.” Trixie raised her chin up. “I am smart.”

The mooching Urchin looked far too pleased with being defended by an infant less than half her age. Lucifer was about to say as much, but Chloe spoke first.

“Then, you should know better than to jump in elevators,” she said. “You might break it and get us stuck.”

Lucifer snorted. He opened his mouth to remind her that he’d had to prepare for angel break-ins, so there was no way a human child could break his elevator — but Chloe gave him a warning glare, so he settled for just shaking his head in silence. Trixie didn’t look fooled by Chloe’s parenting lie anyway. The child was smart, misunderstanding of physics aside.

All intelligence slipped away the second the elevator doors slid open.

“No way! You have a piano upstairs, too?”

The whirlwind energy returned. Before Lucifer could blink, Trixie shot forward like a bullet aimed straight for his piano.

“No, don’t touch that!” he warned, but the sticky-fingered twerp was already banging away at the keys. The infant sprinted after her, giggling madly. Lucifer lunged and managed to grab Rory’s hands before she could join the painful key smashing. “Stop that! I know neither of you washed your hands after dinner.”

Trixie whirled away before he could grab her too. “Whoa, look at all those books!”

“Yes, emphasis on the look!” But he didn’t know if Trixie followed that command. The infant made another lunge for the piano, and he was forced to tug her back. “I said no!”

“They go all the way to the ceiling!”

“Trixie!” Chloe scolded.

Lucifer heard a suspicious sniffling sound and spun around. Trixie lifted her head off the back of his couch and grinned.

“Your couch smells really good. Like leather!”

“That’s because it is leather. Italian, in fact, so don’t—”

“Oh cool!” Trixie exclaimed as her attention shifted again. “Look, Rory! He has stairs leading into his bedroom!”

Lucifer reached his hand out but just missed her shoulder as the hyperactive roadrunner sped past him.

“Absolutely not! That room’s off-limits, remember?”

Trixie ran right up the forbidden steps without an ounce of guilt. When she reached the landing, she spun around on her toes and struck a pose. “Just like a princess!”

Mentally, Lucifer struck all television privileges from the little Urchin’s list. And possibly meal privileges as well.

“How dare you.” He marched forward. “Queen or king only. Never a princess!”

“Trixie, get back here now!”

But Chloe was once again ignored. The Urchin had already spotted the next thing to get excited about.

“Is that a hot tub on your balcony?”

“Get out of there!” Lucifer said, and finally the girl listened. Sort of. She ran back out of the bedroom like he’d requested, but then she dashed towards the balcony doors.

“Does your balcony wrap all the way around to your bedroom? That’s so cool!”

“Stop running—”

Rory, amused but undeterred by Trixie’s antics, made another dash for the piano. Lucifer pivoted and ran after her instead.

“Infant!” He caught the girl by her wrists and lifted her up to dangle. “I swear to Dad, you are the most single-minded creature I’ve ever met in my life.”

The little imp just giggled.

“Beatrice Eliza!” Chloe managed to stop the other persistent child before she could run outside. “Cut it out! We’re guests here, remember? You need to calm down.”

“But Mom! That’s a wrap-around balcony with floor to ceiling windows and a glass railing!” Trixie spun around to address Lucifer. “Can I go out there?”

“No,” Lucifer said in the most commanding tone he could muster while fighting a squirming toddler.

Trixie’s shoulders slumped. “Why not?”

“Because if you go outside, then the infant will run after you, and then she’ll crawl over the railing and end up splattered on the sidewalk below us.”

Both Chloe and Trixie frowned, though he assumed it was for different reasons.

The Urchin shook her head. “I don’t think Rory can climb over that. The railing’s pretty tall.”

“I wouldn’t put it past this devious creature.”

Rory undermined his devious claim by swinging herself back and forth like she was innocently playing on a swingset instead of dangling six inches off the ground like the guilty captive she was.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

The infant didn’t reply. Slowly, she lifted her legs straight up until she was folded in half with her toes touching her hands. Impressive core strength or not, she was still being ridiculous.

“You know I’m not a jungle gym to amuse yourself with, right?”

The girl had the nerve to stick her tongue out at him as she thought. Finally, she said, “Yes.” Then, she grinned and violently dropped her legs. The uncontrolled swing caused the sharp edge of her shoe to slam directly back into his shin bone.

“Ow!” Lucifer complained. “You precocious monster! I’d drop you for that if it wouldn’t make you bleed again.”

“So…” Trixie cut in. “Where did we land on the balcony?”

“No,” Chloe answered. “Not tonight. Come on, let’s go get you settled.”

Trixie’s posture drooped again like this was the largest disappointment she’d ever felt in her young life. Lucifer felt as much pity for her as she’d felt guilt over invading his space.

“Which room am I staying in?” the girl asked.

“Last door on the right,” Lucifer said. “All the way down the hall.”

“All the way down the hall?” Trixie asked.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” Lucifer jerked his head towards the spare bedrooms. “Get hiking.”

Trixie fetched her bags from the elevator door where she’d dropped them and then scurried off down the hallway. “Whoa! This place goes on forever!”

At her (whiny) insistence, Lucifer released Rory so she could eagerly putter off after her new favorite person.

With a disgruntled huff, he said, “I think I finally understand why it takes two people to create a child: because it takes at least that many to wrangle them.”

Chloe nodded in sympathy. “Hang in there. Only an hour and a half until bedtime.”

“Can it be sooner?” he asked with complete seriousness.

Trixie’s shout carried down the hall. “Yes, there’s a TV in here!”

Chloe narrowed her eyes. “You gave her a room with a TV?”

“No, I gave her the room furthest from my own so I wouldn’t have to hear the little rodent,” Lucifer said. “The TV just happened to be in there.”

Shaking her head, Chloe headed down the hall to supervise again. “We’ll never get her to sleep.”

“Then, we’ll lock her in,” Lucifer called after her. “I stand by my room selection!”

The headache of a hyperactive ten year old tearing through his home didn’t hold a candle to the long and confusingly intricate ritual of ‘bedtime’. First, ‘bedtime’ did not refer exclusively to a bed or the act of falling asleep. That was a misconception on his part due to the name and the one experience he had with reading Trixie a bedtime story. Apparently, unpacking counted as getting ready for bed. Also, laying out clothes for the next day and double checking all school work had been completed. Then, it was bathtime (which Lucifer was certain was meant to be a category all on its own and not a subcomponent of bedtime). But Trixie didn’t take baths anymore. She had graduated to showers in order to be more independent — and yet still required parental supervision because she shouted “Mom!” no less than three separate times before she’d even managed to turn on the water. Lucifer understood shower controls changed from residence to residence, but at its functional core, it was still just a shower.

Of course, one of those shouts was because Rory had slipped away from them and barged in on the girl. After that, Lucifer stopped puzzling over Trixie’s activities and turned his attention to keeping the infant distracted. Since she’d be having her own bath soon, he started by pulling out her remaining two pairs of pajamas and asking which one she wished to wear.

Rory batted them away. “No, I don’t like those.”

“Well, I don’t blame you. They’re hideous,” Lucifer said. “Unfortunately, it’s what you’re stuck with.”

The girl pitched her voice up into a whine. “I want my bear.”

Lucifer pointed. “Your bear is already on the bed.”

“No, not that one.”

Thus began the most skillless search Lucifer had ever had the misfortune of witnessing. Rory lifted up the rug to look underneath it. (For what? Who knew!) Failing there, she checked under the bedsheets and then flattened herself to check under the bed itself. Still coming up empty, she continued her ground level search. She pushed Chloe’s bag aside to check beneath it, pushed open the closet to check the floor inside, and then finally pulled open the bottom drawer of the dresser which forced Lucifer to grab the top to keep it from toppling over and crushing the girl like a bug.

“The Detective’s wrong. There’s no way your mother is a cop with this lack of sense,” Lucifer said. “What are you looking for?”

The infant glanced up and spotted the sleeve of her fuzzy pajamas now dangling off the top of the dresser. She happily squealed and pointed to it.

“That one! I want that one!”

Lucifer held up the fuzzy onesie. “Are you allowed to wear the same pajamas twice?”

Rory whined again when he didn’t immediately give her the pajamas. “I want that one,” she repeated. Her voice hitched, warning that a sob was right around the corner.

“Well, don’t cry about it. I was only asking.”

Chloe popped into the doorway. “What are you doing?”

Lucifer held up the pajamas just as Rory jumped for them. “Is she allowed to wear the same pajamas two nights in a row?”

“She has a clean ones, doesn’t she?”

“She doesn’t want those.”

Rory screeched her unhappiness right on cue. Chloe shrugged in surrender.

“None of this is what she’s used to, so just let her keep the ones that make her happy.”

“A childcare decision we agree on.” Lucifer dropped the fuzzy pajamas on top of the infant’s head. The girl ripped them off with a scowl and yanked them tightly to her chest.

“Mine!”

If tonight was any indication, then parenting required an awful lot of bluffing, if not outright lying, to avoid inflicting bodily harm. Whether it was stopping the child from doing something dangerous or pretending you didn’t want to strangle them for being the most annoying creature alive — somehow, someway, the truth required obscuring.

Chloe demonstrated the latter as she masked her exhaustion with her cheerful ‘mom’ face. “Yay, you’ve got your pj’s! Does that mean you’re ready for your bath now?”

Underdeveloped as Rory’s brain was, she accepted the act at face value. All trace of annoyance washed away as she squealed, “Yeah!” Then, she tossed the hard-won pajamas to the floor and began pulling her shirt over her head.

“Rory!” Chloe scooped the girl up. “You can wait until we’re in the bathroom before you take your clothes off, you silly goof.”

The infant giggled. It was her go-to reply to being caught. Everything was a game or a joke, unless the girl didn’t get her way. Then, she morphed it into Hell on earth.

Lucifer refused to acknowledge how familiar that was.

Chloe laughed with the girl, too. “Oh, it’s actually a good thing you like bathtime so much,” she said as she turned back for the hall. “It makes this so much easier.”

Easier. Right. If that was true, then Lucifer had no desire to learn what harder looked like. He picked up Rory’s pajamas and placed them on top of the dresser again. When he turned back around, Trixie stood in the doorway.

“Dammit, child!” he said with a start. “I thought we had an agreement about you sneaking up on me.”

Trixie stared up at him, impassively. “I didn’t sneak up on you. I just walked normal.”

“Then, put a bell on.”

A grin broke out on the girl’s face. “Did you know your shower squirts out water from three different places?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Yes, I was aware.”

“It’s super weird!” she said. “But super fun, too.”

“Goody,” he deadpanned. Then, he spotted the tiny pools of water forming behind the Urchin’s feet. “Your hair is dripping water on my floor.”

“I know.”

“Then, clean it up.”

Trixie scuffed her socked foot over the floor but it did poor job of soaking up the water. She gave up with a shrug. “It’ll dry.” Then, she squared her shoulders and tilted her head back to look him in the eye. “Lucifer, I think it’s time we talked.”

“If you make the infant slip and cut her lip again, I’ll send you to sleep in the car.”

Frustratingly unperturbed by his threats, Trixie marched past him to hop on the bed. She patted the spot beside her and commanded, “Sit.”

Heaving a large sigh, Lucifer dragged his feet over and sat down on the bed.

“I’m not moving you to a bigger room,” he said. “You’ve got a TV and easy access to the kitchen. If you forgot to squirrel chocolate away in your bag, there’s some in the cabinet beside the fridge.”

Trixie tilted her head. “Does the TV work?”

“Of course, it works,” Lucifer said.

“I wasn’t sure,” Trixie admitted. “There was a VCR with it. I thought those died in the 80s.”

“Joke’s on you, I was in Hell for the 80s,” Lucifer said. “Is that what you’re concerned about: whether the TV works?”

Trixie scooted back to sit cross-legged. “No, I want to talk about Rory.”

“Why do we need to talk about Rory?”

Trixie swept her gaze over the bedroom. It wasn’t as colorful or cluttered as her room at home. It also didn’t have a TV like the bedroom he’d given her here, so there was no reason to be jealous of it. He didn’t know what the girl could be looking for.

“Is this supposed to be her room?” she asked.

“No, it’s just where she slept last night. Your mother, too, so the infant wouldn’t cry,” he added just in case Rory was a ruse, and the Urchin actually wanted to have a ‘what are your intentions with my mother’ talk. She shouldn’t want that. It had never come up before. But she had also never come up to him and said ‘we need to talk’ so Dad only knew what was going on inside that little mind of hers.

She reached over to the pillow and picked up the teddy bear Rory had claimed for her own. “So, this room is temporary.”

“Everything with the infant is temporary until we find her parents.”

That caused Trixie to frown. “But you’re her dad.”

“I most certainly am not,” Lucifer said. “One faulty DNA test does not make me her father.”

“But she calls you dad.”

“Because the girl is confused.”

“And you’re taking care of her.”

“Temporarily,” Lucifer repeated.

“So then, you’re her dad,” Trixie finished.

“I am a reluctant guardian at best.” Lucifer huffed. “Will you just hurry up and say your piece so we can end this excruciating conversation?”

Trixie furrowed her eyebrows. “Huh?”

“Talk.”

“Oh.” Trixie dropped the bear back on the bed. “Well, I was thinking, if Rory’s going to be staying with you, then she needs a real room.”

“And what makes it a real room instead of this illusion we must be sitting in right now?” Lucifer asked.

“Well first, she needs a toddler bed,” Trixie said.

“Again, she has a bed. We’re sitting on it,” Lucifer pointed out.

“No, this bed is too big. Look.” Trixie stood up to measure herself against the top of the mattress. “It comes up to my ribcage. That’s like the top of Rory’s head. It’s way too tall. But a toddler bed only comes up to here.” She leaned over to hold her hand a few inches above the floor. “See? That way if she rolls off the bed in the middle of the night, she can’t get hurt.”

He frowned. “How often do toddlers roll off the bed?”

Trixie shrugged. “Often enough that their beds are small.”

Lucifer glanced worriedly at the queen-sized bed. Had they just been lucky Rory hadn’t fallen off the night before? Would the infant be secure enough with the Detective sleeping beside her or would he be jolted awake tonight by screams and pools of blood?

“They make infant beds with railings on it, right? I can just get her one of those.”

“No, those are cribs,” Trixie said. “And cribs are only for the little babies. Rory would just climb out of it.”

“Then, I’ll get taller railings or one with a ceiling on top,” Lucifer said. The ceiling would be handy in case the infant’s wings suddenly began working.

Trixie frowned. “I think you’re talking about a cage.”

“And the problem with that?”

“She needs a toddler bed,” Trixie said with patient authority. She sounded far too much like her mother. “Oh, and you should let her pick it out. She’ll like it better that way.”

Sensing he would need a list for this conversation, Lucifer pulled out his phone and began typing. “Alright, I’ll get the infant a new bed —“

“A toddler bed,” Trixie said. “Not a cage.”

“Yes, a toddler bed,” Lucifer amended (though, he still preferred his cage idea). “And a car seat, I suppose. She’s still fussing about the one we have.”

“You didn’t let her pick out her car seat?”

“It’s not hers. Your mother borrowed it from work.”

Trixie’s eyes widened with alarm. “Oh, then you definitely need a car seat. Babies are too small for the regular seat belts. Those come in different sizes too, so make sure you get the right one.”

Lucifer stopped typing. “What makes you such an expert on toddlers anyway? You’ve barely outgrown your own infant stage.”

“My best friend has a baby brother — he was a surprise,” Trixie confidently explained, as if she knew what that phrase meant. “He just turned three last month, too, but he’s not like Rory at all. He’s sooooo annoying and always follows me and McKenna around and ruins all of our games. We tried telling her parents, but they won’t do anything about it because they don’t want to watch him either. I hate him!” Her tone abruptly shifted. “Oh! You need to get Rory more toys, too.”

That was more gossip than he ever wanted to know about the inner lives of ten year olds. He tried to forget every boring word of it and focus only on the relevant part. “You just gave her toys from your collection.”

“Yeah, but those are hand-me-downs,” Trixie said. “New toys are way more fun.”

“Ah yes, I remember your attempts to secure a new doll.”

Trixie smiled. “I got her in the end. It just took a lot of dishes.”

Lucifer added ‘toys’ to his list followed by ‘clothes (fashionable)’ as the Urchin leaned over his shoulder to check his work.

“Oh yeah, clothes are good,” she said. “And diapers if she still wears them.”

“She wears Pull-Ups, and we already have some.”

“Oh, that means she’s potty-training. You should get her underwear then too.” Trixie sat back down on the bed. “And socks, and shoes — did her mom really not pack her anything?”

“That’s assuming it was her mother who left her at the precinct.”

“Weren’t you there when she was dropped off?”

“Why would I have been? The infant just showed up out of nowhere like the worst kind of surprise package.”

The Urchin fell strangely quiet.

“What?” Lucifer asked.

“Did her mom abandon her?” she asked.

Now, Lucifer fell quiet. Trixie chewed on her lip and waited for him to answer. The silence stretched on, strangling the air in the room.

Lucifer returned to her previous and safer question. “No, she didn’t arrive with any bags.”

“What about a note?”

“No, there wasn’t a note, either.”

Trixie’s frown deepened. It was unsettling to see the typically upbeat girl so concerned. Lucifer wanted to say something to make her stop worrying, but he couldn’t think of anything — anything that wouldn’t reveal Rory’s celestial nature anyway. While Chloe knew about angels now, he assumed filling in the Urchin on those details was still off limits, and the only other reassurance he could think of was ‘Don’t worry, my parents didn’t pack a bag for me either when they kicked me out’ which the girl probably wouldn’t find reassuring at all.

“You should get food for her, then,” Trixie finally said. “Sometimes babies are picky and throw food at you if they don’t like it. And you need to get snacks, too. Lots and lots of snacks because us kids eat a lot.”

“Right. I can buy more bananas. I know she likes those.” Lucifer added it to the list, but Trixie frowned.

“Bananas are food, not snacks.”

Lucifer countered, “Any food not eaten with a meal is a snack.”

“No,” Trixie argued. “A snack is like cookies or chips or pudding. Do you know what she likes?”

He still wasn’t convinced by the Urchin’s definition of ‘snack’, but he let the matter drop. “The infant hasn’t said.”

“Then, you should let her try a bunch of different ones until you know what she likes.” Trixie began listing on her fingers, “I’d start with Gushers, chocolate Teddy Grahams, chocolate chip cookies — from the bakery, but chewy Chips Ahoy works too. Cheetos — the big puffy kind. Not the regular kind; those are too small. Go off brand if you need to.”

“You’re just listing the snacks you like,” Lucifer said.

Trixie gave him a look that said ‘duh’. “Because I have good taste. Now, write them all down. You’ll also need Doritos — Cool Ranch only, and—“

Lucifer tossed her the phone. “Knock yourself out.”

“Yes!” Trixie instantly began typing. “Are you going to have it delivered tonight?”

“Maybe.” He might also pass out on his bed and hope the entire weekend turned out to be a dream. “Include what you want for breakfast because you’re serving yourself in the morning.”

Trixie froze in alarm. “You’re not cooking breakfast? But you make really good bacon!”

“Oh, do I?” Lucifer cocked his head. “Well, perhaps you should’ve thought of that before you went smudging your dirty little hands over everything I own and calling my place a princess castle.”

“But I only said your stairs were like a princess!” Trixie said.

“The correct title is queen or king. I repeat, king or queen, only.” Lucifer wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Princess implies you have to answer to someone.”

“I’m sorry! Your stairs are really cool and definitely not like a princess at all!”

“Too late.”

Trixie dropped the pleading and narrowed her eyes. “What if we made a deal for the bacon?”

Lucifer smiled. “I commend the attempt, but I don’t want anything from you.”

“But I’m giving you advice on how to take care of Rory,” Trixie said with what would likely be a winning smile if faced off against anyone else.

“Advice you already offered for free,” Lucifer countered. His own smile grew as the Urchin sighed in defeat. He nearly taunted her for the loss before registering that it had taken him three years to get the better end of one of their negotiations. Damn, she was clever.

“I guess I can settle for cereal,” Trixie grumbled.

“Good,” Lucifer said, still annoyed that this was the first time he’d beaten her.

A devious giggle and speedy pitter-pattering of feet made him grimace and brace himself for a new annoyance.

“Teeee!”

Rory bounded into the room, wearing an ear-to-ear grin and the fuzzy pajamas she was so attached to. She dragged a limp and sodden towel behind her, and her damp (but not dripping wet) hair soaked into the back of her clothes instead of his floor. To Lucifer’s relief, the girl ignored him and made a beeline for Trixie.

“I’m all clean now!” she proclaimed and clamped her arms around Trixie’s legs.

Trixie giggled. “Wow. Good job.”

She glanced at Lucifer like she expected him to share in her amusement — but he didn’t see the humor in the situation, especially when the infant attempted to scale the bed.

“No!” He lunged for the bundle of flailing limbs. “Phone! Watch the phone!”

Trixie pulled the phone out of danger. Lucifer lifted Rory up and deposited her on the bed before she could whine about the assistance.

“Okay,” he said to Trixie. “I see your point about the bed.”

“I told you.” Trixie handed back his phone, and he slipped it into his pocket.

“Oh hey.” She twisted around and picked up Rory’s teddy bear. “You match your new bear.”

Rory snatched the toy away with a sharp, “Mine!”

“Yep, she’s yours now,” Trixie said. “That’s so cool that you have matching pajamas.”

“Iknowthankyou,” the infant blended together into a single word.

“You’re welcome.”

“No, it’s thank you,” Rory corrected.

“No, you say you’re welcome after someone says thank you,” Trixie said.

The infant thought this over, and then shook her head. “No, it’s thank you. I know.”

“Who taught you your conversation skills?” Lucifer asked. He startled when the infant’s face lit up in a grin. Why was the girl so happy he had spoken to her? Yes, as the Detective had pointed out, he had protected Rory from a kidnapping. But at the precinct, the infant had still been more than content to ignore him.

Rory crawled across the bed and handed him the damp towel. It reminded Lucifer of a cat dropping a dead bird on the doorstep.

“Why are you giving this to me?” he asked.

“Rory,” Chloe’s voice called from the hall. “Did you take the towel with you?”

Oh. Now, he understood. The conniving infant was trying — albeit poorly — to get him into trouble.

“I think she’ll know which one of us actually brought this in here,” he said just as Chloe popped into the doorway.

“Of course, you did,” she said when she spotted the towel in Lucifer’s hand. “Not like I could’ve used that to wipe up the floor.”

Lucifer’s eyebrows rose as he took in her appearance. Chloe was now drenched from the strands of hair framing her face all the way down to the thighs of her jeans. Her shirt was particularly soaked through and clung wonderfully to her chest. She looked like she’d been on the losing side of a water balloon fight (or winning side, depending on what the intention was). Lucifer bit back comment after comment as he tried to calculate what he could get away with saying, especially with children around.

Trixie didn’t share his hesitation. “Whoa… did you take a bath, too?”

“Certainly looks that way,” Lucifer said, allowing his smirk to break free. Trixie laughed with him as Chloe gave him a sarcastic smile.

“Oh, laugh now, but tomorrow night, it’s going to be your turn to give her a bath.”

Lucifer turned to the Urchin. “She was pointing at you just then.”

“Nope.” Trixie smugly shook her head. Brat.

Chloe held out her hand. “I’ll take the towel.”

Lucifer couldn’t resist an extra jab as he handed it over. “It might be too late for it.” Chloe whacked him in the face with the dirty towel which prompted Trixie to laugh again.

“This,” Chloe indicated her wet clothing, “is all your daughter’s fault. She thinks the bathtub is a swimming pool.”

“Oh yeah, I love swimming,” Rory gleefully agreed.

“Oh, I am not surprised by that at all,” Chloe said in the sugar-coated voice everyone kept using to baby the girl. She switched to her normal voice to talk to her actual daughter as she leaned down to dig through her bag. “Trix, have you combed your hair yet?”

“It’s still drying,” Trixie claimed.

“If by drying, you mean soaking into the bedding.” Lucifer pointed behind her.

Trixie narrowed her eyes. “Whose side are you on?”

“Whose side are you on?” Lucifer said. “You let me get hit in the face with a towel.”

The girl broke into a smile. “Because it was funny.”

“Trixie, go comb your hair,” Chloe ordered. “And dry it when you get out of the shower. The towel isn’t just for your body.”

Reluctantly, Trixie dragged herself off to the bathroom. Chloe shook her head.

“Sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into her. She just started refusing to dry her hair a couple of weeks ago, and it’s driving me crazy.”

Lucifer smiled. “It’s your bed she drip-dried on. Not mine.”

Chloe sighed. “Great.” She pulled her change of clothes from her bag. “Okay, Rory. I’m going to change into my own pajamas and then we’re all going to brush our teeth and go to bed, okay?”

The infant nodded. “Okay, Mommy.”

Twenty minutes later, Rory still refused to brush her teeth.

Chloe bent down to talk to the girl again. “Look baby, I know we didn’t do this yesterday because it was late, but you need to brush your teeth tonight.”

“No.”

It was the calm, steadfast stubbornness behind the refusal that had Lucifer scratching his head. Throwing a tantrum because she didn’t want to brush her teeth, sure. The infant did that over everything. But just a simple ‘no’ without tears or stomping was baffling. What was the reasoning for it?

“Well, you have to brush your teeth. So, do you want to try?” Chloe said.

Rory glanced at the sink. “No, I’m not doing that tonight.”

Trixie joined the attempt. “It’s really easy, Rory. Look, I’ll do it again.”

She began brushing her teeth in demonstration, but Rory observed it with as much interest as Lucifer observed that cyber-security training Chloe had dragged him to last year (you open one phishing attempt, entirely on purpose since it was Dan’s computer, and suddenly people think you don’t know how to follow safe internet practices).

Chloe sighed. “Just go on to bed,” she told her daughter. “I’ll be there in a minute to tuck you in.”

“Okay.” Trixie rinsed off her toothbrush and gave Chloe a hug. “Good night, Mom. Night, Lucifer.”

“Good night,” he said as the oldest trouble finally retired for the evening.

Chloe crossed her arms and squared off with the infant. “Rory, we’re not leaving the bathroom until you brush your teeth.”

Considering how much the infant loved taking a bath, being stuck in the room with the tub might not be the most effective threat. Though, it wasn’t like Lucifer had any other ideas.

“Which part is the problem, infant?” he asked. “Do you need a different toothbrush? Do you have a problem with mint?”

Rory shrugged.

“Then, why aren’t you brushing your teeth?”

“I don’t feel like it.”

Chloe shut her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Do not say she’s just like me,” Lucifer said.

“I just want to go to bed,” Chloe said, tiredly.

He knew she would’ve had a much easier time tonight if she had simply stayed home with her own child. And certainly, he and the infant would be having a much, much worse time. Lucifer appreciated the help, but he was explicitly trying to avoid making Chloe feel trapped or tortured, and the infant was undermining his efforts.

He squatted down to look Rory in the eyes. He couldn’t use his powers on her. Not because she was an angel (the girl was also mortal so there was a strong chance his powers would work on her), but because she was a child. His power didn’t hold any sway over children. They were far too good at telegraphing their desires already.

They were usually good at telegraphing their desires. Rory, however, was a complete enigma, and he hadn’t read far enough in those child development books to know what to do when a child refused to brush their teeth for absolutely no reason.

Bargaining it was, then.

“Fine. You don’t want to brush your teeth, child? Then take only the brush and run it over your teeth real quick,” Lucifer said. “You don’t even need the toothpaste.”

Rory scrunched up her nose like he’d suggested brushing her teeth with garbage. “No, that’s weird, Daddy.”

“Then, put the toothpaste on your finger and run that over your teeth,” Lucifer suggested in desperation. “It’s got to be one or the other, though. So, which are you doing?”

The girl tilted her head. Interest finally lit the unyielding void in her eyes.

“You’ll take the toothpaste?” Lucifer asked hopefully.

A slow smile broke out over the imp’s face. “Yeah, I want to do that.”

Thank fuck for that. Lucifer took the toothpaste from Chloe and dropped a dab onto Rory’s finger. Still grinning, the girl enthusiastically rubbed it over her front teeth.

“Both sides,” Lucifer said, pointing to her cheeks. Rory was less thorough about rubbing her finger along her side teeth, but it was good enough for Lucifer’s standards. He stood up to check with Chloe.

“Does that suffice?”

He couldn’t read the Detective’s expression beyond the deep exhaustion, but it seemed like the lines of frustration had eased as she nodded.

“Yeah, that will work.” Some of that cheerful mom spark returned to her voice as she said, “Good job, Rory! Thank you for doing that. Do you want to rinse your mouth out now?”

Rory pinched her lips closed like she feared someone would force feed her water and shook her head.

“Okay, then let’s just clean up the outside of your mouth, and then we can all go to bed.”

‘Go to bed’ was still too vague and optimistic. It took four readings of the same storybook (once with Trixie and then three more times on her own) before Rory finally… finally… fell asleep.

Carefully (and quickly on Lucifer’s part), he and Chloe crept out of the room. Chloe ensured the bedroom door stayed open a few inches while Lucifer fought back the urge to beat his head against the wall.

“I will personally torture both the author and the publisher who decided to curse the world with Callie’s Trip to the Zoo.”

“Yeah, Trixie really could’ve packed a better book,” Chloe said.

“Callie was a cat herself!” Lucifer complained. “What was she doing visiting a zoo? It makes no sense!”

“You know, I naively thought we’d have a harder time getting Trixie to go to sleep tonight,” Chloe said. “I figured Rory would be just as exhausted as us, but boy was I wrong.”

Lucifer nodded down the hall. “The TV’s playing.”

“Yeah, I’m ignoring that.”

Chloe pushed herself off the wall and moved into the living room. Lucifer followed right behind.

“You’re choosing to ignore it? What happened to controlling your child under the guise of teaching them responsibility? Isn’t that a parent’s entire job?”

Chloe smiled as she checked that Trixie’s backpack was still packed for the morning. “Parenting is about picking your battles more than anything else,” she said. “You learn pretty fast that you can’t control your kid.”

“Tell that to my parents,” Lucifer grumbled.

“You’re doing well with Rory.”

He rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t take skill to read a bedtime story.”

“Reading it over and over again without bashing your head against the wall?” Chloe asked.

“I thought that was just me who wanted to bash their head in,” Lucifer said.

Chloe chuckled. “It’s every parent ever.”

She began picking up the toys the girls had managed to scatter during their quest to go to bed. Lacking a better place to put them, she set them on top of the bar. They looked out of place there, but the brightly colored plastic would look out of place anywhere in his penthouse. Did he need to add a toy bin to the shopping list? Certainly, he should add better reading material. At this rate, he would need a second list. Just how much did he need to buy for a temporary interloper?

(What if it wasn’t temporary?)

Chloe spoke, “But I meant when she didn’t want to brush her teeth.”

“What?” Lucifer said.

“You came up with using toothpaste on her finger. That was good.”

“Yes, but she still didn’t really brush her teeth,” he said.

Chloe shrugged. “Not every day is perfect. It’s still in the same vein so she can build the habit. It was a good compromise.”

He hadn’t been worried about hygiene habits. He’d just wanted the bathroom showdown to end, but now Chloe was praising him for it. It felt disconcerting. Suddenly, he feared the Detective had decided she wasn’t scared of him because she’d already reclassified him from ‘the Devil’ to ‘fellow parent’ in her mind.

(That hadn’t been what she’d said, though. She’d compared him against other angels when she said she trusted him. Not parents.)

He stopped her when Chloe moved to straighten up another section of the living room.

“You can go on to bed if you’d like. I can finish tidying up.”

“Are you sure?” Chloe said. “I know most of this mess is Trixie’s.”

“And the slob is being punished appropriately with cold cereal for breakfast instead of the bacon she requested.” Lucifer smiled. “It’s fine. I’ve got it.”

“Okay, thanks.” Chloe began to leave the room but paused when she reached his side. “You know, giving her a TV in her room kind of undermines that punishment.”

“I told you, the TV was already there,” Lucifer argued.

Chloe smirked. “Good night, Lucifer.”

As he cleaned up the straggling toys and then corrected the books that Trixie had slipped over to explore at some point in the evening, he realized he didn’t feel off-kilter because Chloe believed he was a parent.

He felt off-kilter because he was no longer sure he wasn’t.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5 of Early Child Development stated that children take their cues from the adults around them. Lucifer had assumed Chloe knew this, what with how much effort she put into keeping her temper with the infant and the way she’d hid her exhaustion the night before.

He no longer believed this.

“Remember, I will see you for lunch,” Chloe repeated for the third time. She held Rory’s hands in hers while she knelt in front of the girl. “I won’t be gone that long at all, I promise.”

Rory glanced over at the elevator where Trixie’s patience ticked away into boredom. “Why does Tee have school?”

“Because it’s Monday. That’s a school day,” Chloe explained. “And that’s why I have to go to work, but you’re going to have a lot of fun with Lucifer, okay? I’ll be back before you know it.”

Did the Detective think constantly repeating this would make the infant more likely to believe her? Because from where Lucifer stood, Rory grew less certain the more Chloe talked.

“But there’s no school. It’s summer,” Rory said.

“Well, it might look like summer to you, but that’s just LA. It’s actually still winter here, too.”

The infant’s uncertainty deepened into a frown.

“Hey.” Chloe swung their clasped hands to get the girl’s attention. “Will you be okay with Lucifer today? I promise I will come back. I won’t be gone that long.”

“But we didn’t have Tee’s birthday,” Rory replied.

“What?”

Lucifer didn’t know why the girl was discussing birthdays either, but it was hardly a reason to keep them all trapped in this endless limbo.

“Detective,” he interrupted. “You did say you had to leave early to get your child to school on time, did you not?” He gestured over to Trixie who had started pointedly tapping her wrist even though she didn’t wear a watch. She stopped and gave an innocent smile when Chloe glanced over.

“Yes, I know. We’re leaving.”

“You started leaving ten minutes ago,” Lucifer said.

Chloe stood up and lowered her voice. “I know. I’m trying to make sure Rory won’t be upset after I leave.”

“Well, it’s not working,” Lucifer said. “You’re so nervous about leaving, it’s making her more nervous.”

She bit her lip. “Maybe I can call in today.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. He grabbed Chloe’s shoulders and spun her towards the elevator. “Take your daughter to school. The infant and I will be fine.”

“Okay, okay.” Chloe pulled away from him and leaned down to address Rory yet again. “I will be back for lunch, Rory. If you get too scared, you can ask Lucifer to call me.”

That snapped the infant into an indignant scowl. “I don’t get scared.”

Chloe chuckled. “That’s right, monkey. You’re really brave, aren’t you? But just in case, okay?”

“Goodbye, Detective,” Lucifer interjected.

Reluctantly, Chloe finally joined Trixie at the elevator. “Call me if anything happens,” she told Lucifer as the doors slid open. She waved to Rory while Trixie called out her own goodbye, and then the doors slid shut. Chloe was gone, and Lucifer and Rory were officially on their own.

He looked down at the infant. The infant looked up at him. Ten seconds passed, and still Rory didn’t cry. Lucifer released a breath.

Quick-stepping to the arm chair, Rory retrieved a doll she’d dropped earlier. “Do you want to play Barbies with me?”

“No.” Lucifer wracked his mind for an alternative way to entertain her. “Do you want to watch more Fringe?”

The infant’s face lit up. “Moo cow!” she squealed and ran for the TV.

“I don’t think the cow’s a main character,” Lucifer warned as he followed to set up the show.

Chloe tried to concentrate on work that morning — honestly, she did try. They still had a murder to solve. She should be tracking down the victim’s friends and family members, setting up interviews, pulling bank statements and phone records, doing whatever she could to establish motive and flush out leads. That was her job, and their victim deserved her full attention on it so justice could be served. But this victim had the unfortunate timing to die just when Lucifer’s long-lost toddler daughter suddenly popped up, so instead of chasing down information, Chloe watched the minutes tick past agonizingly slow and repeatedly checked her phone for messages from Lucifer.

“Just call him if you’re that worried about it,” Dan said.

Chloe guiltily dropped her phone on her desk (still no texts) and said, “I’m not worried.”

“Right,” Dan said. “That’s why you’ve checked your phone twenty times in the last five minutes alone.”

“I have not.” Chloe frowned. She fought the urge to check for a text again. Dan noticed and smirked. With a huff, Chloe said, “I’m not worried. I’m concerned. The last time Rory was left alone with Lucifer, she wouldn’t stop crying.”

That had been the first night Rory had been in town, and other factors had influenced that night like Chloe learning Lucifer and Rory both had wings — but still, it didn’t bode well for Rory surviving today without at least a few tears. (Chloe would know just how many tears if Lucifer would just text her with a fricking update already.)

“Then, call him,” Dan said. “But if he hasn’t called you already or marched in here with a sobbing toddler in tow, then I think they’re doing okay.”

Chloe wasn’t as convinced of this. “I can’t call him now anyway. He has his therapy appointment soon.”

“He’s taking Rory with him to therapy?”

“Yes. I told him he could drop her off here if he wanted to, but no, he said it would be fine,” Chloe said. “Like, I understand if he wants to talk about Rory today, but it doesn’t need to be a show-and-tell if she’s going to be in the way.”

With a straight face, Dan said, “Chloe. They’re fine.”

“Or Rory’s throwing such a huge tantrum that Lucifer can’t reach his phone to call for help.”

“Yeah,” Dan said, “or she’s bleeding out on the floor and he hasn’t noticed because he’s entertaining people in the club at nine in the morning.”

“Well, that’s the one thing I don’t have to worry about,” Chloe said. “She bit her lip her first night here, and Lucifer has been through the roof paranoid about her getting hurt ever since.” Then, she remembered the knife throwing the morning before and amended, “Mostly paranoid. I swear, he’s worse than you were when we brought Trixie home from the hospital.”

“Uh, yeah! His kid can walk and run and grab things already,” Dan said. “I understand his paranoia. When Trixie was a newborn, we just had to make sure she kept breathing.”

“And yet you didn’t sleep at all that first week,” Chloe said.

“Because she might have stopped breathing,” Dan replied in a ‘duh’ tone. “Besides, no one sleeps when they have a newborn. Everyone knows that.”

“Yeah, but you took it to an extreme,” Chloe said with a smirk. She woke up her phone’s screen, but Dan grabbed it from her before she could check for notifications. “Hey!”

“You just said no one’s going to be bleeding,” he said.

“I said I had other things to worry about.”

“If he couldn’t calm her down, he would call.”

“Not just that.” Chloe launched into her list of concerns. “I left him the car seat to use, but I don’t know if he knows how to install it properly. And even if he does, he still probably hasn’t made it to therapy yet because I forgot to tell him to get Rory ready to go thirty minutes before he thought he should. And that’s assuming he hasn’t been feeding her junk all morning, because if she’s hyper or cranky, it’s going to take even longer.” She stopped and asked, “Seriously, do you have any idea how many bags of cookies and candy got delivered this morning?”

Dan raised his eyebrow. “Why all the cookies and candy? Is Lucifer having belated pregnancy cravings or something?”

“No.” Chloe rolled her eyes. “He let Trixie make the grocery list.”

Dan laughed. “Oh man, rookie mistake.”

“Exactly! Because he’s new at this,” Chloe said. “Now, give me my phone back.”

He held it out but didn’t surrender it. “I will give the phone back if you stop backseat parenting.”

Chloe argued, “I’m not backseat parenting. Why do you think I haven’t just called him already?”

“Because you think he should’ve texted you an update first, and you’re pissed that he hasn’t and assuming the worst instead of just assuming he’s busy watching the three year old you’re so worried about.”

Chloe narrowed her eyes. Dan smirked.

“You know,” she snatched her phone back, “just for that, I won’t tell you who Trixie said was the best dad in the world.”

Dan’s smirk shifted into a beam. “Was it me? It was me, wasn’t it.”

Chloe shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t remember now.”

“It was me,” Dan said, still grinning. “And you want to know why?” He leaned forward. “Because I didn’t backseat parent every one of her baby-sitters. Oh!” He stood up in triumph. “Now, who’s the paranoid one?”

“Okay, I get it,” Chloe grumbled as Dan started doing the worst victory dance by her desk.

“Do you, though?” An acid-laced voice cut across the precinct. “Do you get it?”

Maze marched over and slammed her hands down on Chloe’s desk. The stench of alcohol and cigarette smoke was more startling than the show of force, and both Chloe and Dan recoiled.

“Jeez, I didn’t think the bounty paid that well,” Dan said. “What were you celebrating?”

“I wasn’t,” Maze said.

“You didn’t drive like that, did you?” Chloe asked.

Maze gave a fake laugh. “Oh, concern. Concern — that’s cute. Where was that all weekend when you ignored me?”

“How could I ignore you? You weren’t even home.”

Dan looked at her in surprise. “She got home Friday. You didn’t know that?”

“It was Saturday.” Maze smiled, but this wasn’t her usual ‘I could cut you but I’ll leave you in one piece for now’ smile. This one was cold and empty. “I caught my bounty on Friday.”

“Okay, so what, you tell Dan that and not me?” Chloe said. “I’m your roommate.”

Maze’s face broke into fake shock. “You are? Well, that’s news to me, roomie.”

She leaned over the desk, and Chloe tried not to grimace. What sort of dive bar had she holed up in last night for her to reek like that?

Maze continued, “Cause see, you’ve hardly been home all weekend. So, what’s going on, are you moving out? Or are you avoiding me in the hopes that I’ll tuck my tail between my legs and quietly pack up my things so you never have to see me again?” Her eyes narrowed back into a scowl. “Because I got news for you, Decker. It ain’t gonna happen! Confront me like you have a backbone or move yourself out.”

Dan gestured between them. “So… when did this roommate squabble start?”

“Today, apparently.” Chloe frowned. She couldn’t begin to guess what Maze was so offended by. Everything had been normal at home when she’d left to chase down her bounty. “Maze, I don’t know why you’re angry, but I’d be glad to talk it over with you—“

“Oh, drop it, Chloe! Only Lucifer thinks you’re a good actress.”

“I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Yes, you do!” Maze’s voice dipped forebodingly low. “You know everything now. He told me.”

It was a testament to how fast things had moved this weekend that it took her an extra second to understand what Maze was talking about.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Maze straightened. “That’s all you have to say for yourself, just oh?”

Dan interrupted. “Sorry, are we talking about Lucifer suddenly having a daughter or is there something else going on?”

“Stay out of this, Dan!” Maze snapped.

He didn’t. Suspicion crossed his face instead as he peered over at her. “Hold on… you’re not Rory’s mom, are you?”

Chloe’s stomach clenched in dread even though she’d had that same thought the first day she’d met Rory and had even asked the girl about it.

Maze finally tore her glare away from Chloe. “Who’s Rory? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Right.” Chloe’s dread dissipated, though the unease remained. “Well, while you were gone, we discovered Lucifer has a three year old daughter — at least, we’re all but certain she’s his daughter.”

Dan chimed in, “Ella’s going to rerun the DNA test, but the first one definitely said he’s the dad.”

Maze’s glare deepened again. “That’s Rory? Who cares about Lucifer’s mutant offspring! Chloe and I have bigger issues to discuss.”

“Wait, why don’t you sound surprised that Lucifer has a daughter?” Chloe asked.

Maze leaned down again. “Maybe if your head wasn’t so far up your ass, you would’ve heard that I’ve been here since Saturday.”

“Yes, I heard that part—“

“Morning,” Maze continued. “Which means I was there when you ran in the house for all of two seconds before running right back out.” She laughed. “You know, I actually felt pretty proud of myself after that. ‘Damn!’ I thought. I had you running for your life and you hadn’t even seen me yet! But then you came back and had that cozy little night at home with the family like you never even had a roommate to worry about.”

“You were there during dinner last night?” Now, Chloe was annoyed. “Why didn’t you come downstairs? Trixie would’ve been thrilled.”

“Please! Trixie didn’t miss me.”

“Because we didn’t know you were home,” Chloe said. “She would be crushed to know you were upstairs the whole time, ignoring her.”

“Me ignoring her? You were the one ignoring me!” Maze said.

“How could I ignore you if I didn’t know you were home?”

The knife hit her desk — went through her desk — before Chloe could even register Maze had pulled it out. Dan’s hands flew up in defense.

“Whoa! Whoa!”

Chloe fumed as she stared at the knife. In a low voice, she asked, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Oh, do you want to see Hell?” Maze said. “Cause I can show you Hell, Chloe.”

“We’re fine,” Dan told the concerned officers approaching. “Everything’s fine here. Don’t worry about it.”

He leaned down towards Chloe. “Maybe you two should move this argument somewhere else?”

Still glaring, Chloe shoved her chair back and marched around her desk to grab Maze’s arm. “Let’s go.”

Maze reached for her waistband, but this time Chloe saw it. When Maze swung with her second knife, Chloe’s arm shot up to block it.

“You’re seriously going to pull a knife on me?”

It wasn’t a real threat. Chloe was only passable in hand-to-hand combat: skilled enough for assholes and drunks, but nowhere near Maze’s level. If her roommate really intended to attack her, Chloe would be screwed. For her to block this one so easily, Maze must have telegraphed her swing on purpose which made it nothing more than a temper tantrum akin to the kind three year old Rory would throw. The swing was never going to hurt Chloe, but it still royally pissed her off.

“Let’s go,” she repeated through gritted teeth. She dropped Maze’s arm and turned for the hallway to get away from prying eyes.

“Pretty gutsy to turn your back on a demon from Hell!” Maze shouted after her.

“You’re not as scary as you think, Maze!”

Oh… Maze was going to kill her for that. She was going to kill her and then she was going to brag about it right to Lucifer’s face so when he struck her dead in retribution, she could go out laughing.

Chloe led them into the stuffy records room. Leave it to a nerd to pick the room full of filing cabinets for her grave. Maze followed her inside and slammed the door shut, leaving Chloe well and truly trapped.

“What the fuck, Decker?”

“Yeah, what the fuck?” Chloe countered. “Don’t you ever pull a knife on me again, and definitely don’t do it in a room full of trigger-happy cops! What were you thinking?”

Maze cocked her head. “That your blood would look pretty spilling down my wrists?”

Chloe scoffed. With a level of sarcasm that was just begging to be punched, she said, “Right, sorry that I didn’t magically know you were home. Maybe if you’d texted me that you got back like I’ve asked you to do a thousand times—“

“You would’ve what?” Maze asked. “Thrown another welcome back party for the demon? I don’t think so. You’re plotting to kick me out of our apartment!”

“I’m not kicking you out!”

“Then, why have you been ignoring me?”

“Because I didn’t know you were home!”

Chloe gave a frustrated groan and began pacing in a circle. Maze’s fingers twitched at the flagrant disrespect of Chloe turning her back on her again, but she didn’t raise her blade.

“Do you even know how much insane shit has happened this weekend?” Chloe asked. “For starters, Lucifer has a daughter now. A perfect little three year old daughter, who’s beautiful and so smart and so stubborn, but who’s also — huge shock for me — an angel! She has wings! Which means, Lucifer’s an angel. Oh, but not just any angel, of course, no he’s the Devil. Which means everything he ever told me is true. Everything I thought was a myth is actually real! And like that’s not enough to process, suddenly some other angel is breaking into the penthouse to try and kidnap Rory, because why not? What’s one more insane thing on top of an entire weekend of insanity?”

This news paused Maze’s anger. “Hold on,” she said. “What other angel?”

Chloe shrugged. “I don’t know. Lucifer’s sister.”

Well, that was completely unhelpful. “Which sister?” Maze demanded.

“I don’t know! I’m not an angel expert,” Chloe said. “Her name starts with an R, I think? She had this scary spear. It was pointed at both ends.”

Now, a weapon description was helpful. “Remiel tried to kidnap Lucifer’s kid? Why?”

“Because angels belong in Heaven according to her.”

“Bitch.” Maze had never had the displeasure of meeting Remiel, but she’d heard enough to a) believe she’d put up an interesting challenge in a head-to-head duel, and b) not be surprised that she was arrogant enough to try and kidnap Lucifer’s child. The only angels with more self-appointed importance were Amenadiel and Uriel, and Uriel’s ass was dead.

“But that’s still not an excuse to ignore me!” she pushed on. “How do you forgive Lucifer for being the Devil in like a day, but me — your own roommate — you ice out?”

“That’s not what happened!” Chloe sucked in a calming breath like the goody-two-shoes she was. Maze would’ve preferred she threw a punch.

No longer shouting, Chloe continued, “I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you since I found out the truth.”

“That I’m a demon from Hell,” Maze cut in.

“Yes, that you’re a demon,” Chloe said. She kept a straight face, which Maze found mildly impressive. “To be honest, that’s probably one of the least surprising revelations of the weekend.” (Rude.) “But you’re right. We still needed to talk about it.”

Maze crossed her arms. “So, are you kicking me out?”

“No,” Chloe said.

“Oh, because you’re going to move out instead and leave me high and dry with the rent, is that it?”

“No!” Chloe said. “No one is moving out. Let’s just… keep everything exactly how it is, okay?”

This sounded like a trap. Or avoidance. Usually avoidance was Lucifer’s thing, but sometimes Chloe could succumb to the cowardly tactic as well.

“Fine,” Maze said, suspiciously. “Things stay as they are.”

“Great.” And then Chloe frowned. “Actually, one thing does need to change.”

Maze shook her head. I fucking knew it was a trap.

“You need to move your knives back into your own room,” Chloe said. “No more hiding them around the apartment.”

“Oh, come on! You don’t even see them!” Maze argued.

“There’s a three year old staying with us now! Well, staying with Lucifer, at least — but this goes for his place, too.”

Maze said, “Now you’re dictating what I can do at Lucifer’s?”

“When Rory can hurt herself digging out your knives from behind bookcases, yeah I’m telling you to move them,” Chloe said.

Bookcases seemed suspiciously specific. “Which bookcase?”

Chloe replied, “At Lucifer’s. Which is why I am asking you to move your knives out of reach of the three year old, okay?”

“That snot-nosed baby found one of my knives?” Huh. Maybe Maze had underestimated the crying brat. Or she had more angel in her than just the wings. Not inherently a bad thing when her angel parent was Lucifer.

She shrugged in concession. “Fine, I’ll move some of my knives.”

“All of them,” Chloe pushed. “At least at home and at Lucifer’s penthouse. You can keep all the knives that you want hidden at Lux and wherever else you already have them.”

That was still too many knives to move. Did she expect Maze to be defenseless? She just got done saying an angel had attacked Lucifer this weekend!

“No way. I’ll move anything that’s reachable from ground level,” Maze generously offered, “but I’m not doing more than that.”

Shockingly, Chloe considered this. “You can keep them chest height and up only.”

“Chest height?” Maze said. “She’s a baby! How high can she reach?”

“Oh, believe me,” Chloe said with a laugh. “Never underestimate a three year old.”

This was a terrible deal… but that Chloe offered any compromise at all was a good sign. Maybe Maze had been forgiven as quickly as Lucifer after all. “Fine… but this is a one time thing. Don’t start thinking you can put me on a leash.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Chloe said.

Her unbothered tone irritated Maze, so she added, “Some of them will have to go in your room, though.”

“No!” Chloe said. “You keep them in your own room.”

“It’s too many knives. They won’t all fit,” Maze innocently claimed. “And we don’t want little Rory to get hurt, do we?”

Chloe stared at her, but Maze’s poker face was immovable. “Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “Just… don’t put any in my pillow or anywhere else in my bed. I’d prefer not to cut myself when I sleep.”

Considering the guts of Chloe’s pillow were now strewn across her bed, that wouldn’t really be a problem. Maze smiled. “Promise.”

“Thank you.”

Silence hung between them for several seconds before Chloe spoke again.

“I really am sorry we haven’t gotten to talk yet.”

Maze just shrugged and kept her mouth shut.

“Maybe if you called or texted me at all when you were on the road….”

“I was busy.”

“But not too busy to talk to Dan,” Chloe argued.

“I texted him after I caught the guy!” Maze said.

Chloe tilted her mouth in that way that was almost a smile. The argument was done. Maze hadn’t thrown out all of her barbs, and yet a truce was already on the table. Chloe was the worst sparring partner. She was way too nice.

(Verbal sparring partner. Girl knew how to play dirty in an actual spar.)

“Did you get to tell Trixie all about the chase?” Chloe asked.

“No,” Maze said. “She’s been ignoring me, too.”

(Linda’s voice slipped into her head to point out Trixie had also not known Maze was home — but Linda was fucking Amenadiel now, so she could shove it.)

Chloe nodded. “Well, would you like to watch her after school so you two can hang out? She missed you a lot last week.”

Maze raised her eyebrows. “You’re still letting a demon watch your kid?”

“Is there someone she would be safer with?” Chloe asked like it was a rhetorical question.

“No,” Maze answered anyway.

Chloe smiled. “Good. Trixie will be glad to see you — but shower before she gets home, okay?”

That warm buzz Maze always felt upon coming home sparked back to life. Slowly, cautiously, it bloomed throughout her chest. Chloe wasn’t kicking her out. She’d get to hang out with Trixie again. She still had a home.

“Huh, I guess you’re not as weak as I thought, Decker.”

Sarcastically, Chloe replied, “Thanks.” She walked over to the door to leave, but when Maze didn’t step out of the way, she rested her hand on the doorknob and turned to face her. “Are we good then or are you still mad at me?”

“Duh, I’m still mad.” Maze scowled. “You said I wasn’t scary.”

“Sorry, if you’re offended by that, but I just watched an angel — who’s actually allowed in Heaven — try to kidnap a child, so you’re going to have to step up your game.”

Maze scoffed. “Yeah, how weird is that? I thought Remiel was too wet for her forest to ever bother visiting Earth.”

Chloe predictably and delightfully grimaced in disgust. “Okay. Move out of the way.”

She let Chloe shove her away from the door to leave and then followed right on her heels. “I heard she fucked a deer. Twice!”

Maze didn’t admit she’d made up that rumor on her own during a bored night in Hell. Let Chloe think she heard it from Lucifer and worry it was actually true. It was way more fun that way.

One of Linda’s morning sessions ended early, so she did what any person in a new relationship would do and grabbed her phone to text Amenadiel. In a blink, twenty minutes of flirty banter and emoji confusion had passed by. She found Amenadiel’s unfamiliarity with text speak endearingly adorable. Then, Amenadiel one-upped his dorkiness when he said, I’ll fly over with some Korean food. Ugh, angel jokes. So cheesy. So painful. Too bad Linda couldn’t stop grinning.

Haha sounds good, she wrote before those three blinking dots could let Amenadiel second guess his joke. I’ll see you at my place! ;)

She finally noticed the time as she hit send. Crap, her next appointment was meant to start ten minutes ago — but no one had ever knocked at her door. Or barged in without knocking as her next client was more prone to do whether it was his scheduled appointment time or not. Where was Lucifer? He hadn’t messaged her about running late.

Frowning, Linda almost asked Amenadiel if he knew what Lucifer was up to. But why would he know? Especially when Lucifer was most likely helping Chloe with an investigation. If that was the case, he’d either show up in the next few minutes or text her to reschedule.

… Which meant she still had more time for more flirting.

Linda smiled. She picked up her phone again, but her impulse to start a new conversation with Amenadiel was derailed by her office door swinging open.

“Sorry we’re late,” Lucifer announced. “Apparently the words ‘we’re leaving now’ are just a suggestion to an infant.”

“That’s not a problem. Come on in.” Linda placed her phone face down on her desk so she wouldn’t be distracted. Belatedly, the word ‘infant’ registered. “Wait, what inf—“

“Aunt Linda!” a very young voice squealed.

She glimpsed a dark blur darting out of the doorway. Lucifer shouted and lunged after it without success. A second later, a toddler with messy, black hair and dark, brown eyes rounded Linda’s desk and clamped onto her legs.

“Didyouseemefly?” the young girl said with a grin.

Okay, of all the reasonable and unreasonable explanations for Lucifer’s tardiness, watching a toddler was… well, not at the bottom of the list, because that implied Linda had considered it. No, baby-sitting a toddler hadn’t been on the list at all. So then, why was the toddler here? Who had convinced Lucifer to watch her? And why did the girl look strangely familiar?

The little girl continued to babble. “DidCharlieseeme? IflewreallyfaruptoHeaven andthenIbeatupanangel!”

“The lies this creature comes up with,” Lucifer groused. He came around the desk and scooped up the child. “You didn’t fly anywhere. Now, I told you we sit over here.” He plopped her over on the couch and pointed a stern finger in her face. “Stay,” he commanded. The child’s mischievous grin didn’t fade, but the girl remained seated. Satisfied, Lucifer sat down beside her and turned back to Linda.

“So,” he said. “It’s been an interesting weekend.”

“I can see that.” Though, she didn’t begin to understand it. The word ‘weekend’ implied the baby-sitting wasn’t only for this morning which was even more strange. Lucifer had never even watched Trixie for longer than the drive to her school. So, what made the toddler so special? Did he need something from her or her guardians? Did he think he needed something from them?

Linda left her desk to take her usual seat in front of the couch. “Why don’t we start by introducing me to your new friend?”

Lucifer frowned. “Friend is a strong word for an interloper who isn’t old enough to ride in the car without a booster seat.”

“Fair enough,” Linda said. “Why don’t we start with the beginning then… wherever that is.”

The young girl shot her hand up into the air. “Iwanttogofirst! Iwanttogofirst!”

“No, this isn’t your appointment,” Lucifer said.

The girl pouted. “But I want to go first.”

“No. Just sit there and quietly play with your doll.” When Lucifer realized the girl wasn’t holding a doll, he scoffed and asked, “Where is your doll, infant? Did you leave it in the car?”

The girl shrugged, pout still stubbornly on display.

“You left it in the car,” Lucifer repeated flatly. “After you whined and forced us to go all the way back up to the penthouse to get it.” He huffed and said to Linda, “Do you see what I’ve had to put up with?”

“No,” Linda said, slowly shaking her head. Then, she remembered Lucifer’s request the day before. “Oh… this is why you were asking about child development books.”

“Yes, I needed help communicating with her,” Lucifer said. “And the books have proved useful. She minds me about ten percent of the time now, which I know doesn’t sound like much, but is still an improvement over never. However, I haven’t found the trick to make her stop her truly outrageous accusations, yet. I assume I just need to read farther.”

Oh, Linda really should have asked more questions when Lucifer texted her. That was Rule #1 with him: always ask questions. He wouldn’t always answer them (he usually outright ignored them), but at least she could say she tried then.

“I see,” she said. “So, this… four year old?”

“Three,” Lucifer corrected.

The little girl held up three fingers and pushed them into Lucifer’s face. “I’m this many.”

“That’s what I just said.” Lucifer impatiently shoved her hand aside.

“Wow, that’s very good.” Linda smiled at the girl, and the girl’s pout brightened into a beam. “My name’s Linda. What’s your name?”

And the beaming smile faded as quickly as it arrived. The girl shook her head. “No, I’ve played this game already.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You can call her Rory,” Lucifer said. “But ‘manipulator’ and ‘screeching burden’ work too.”

Three year old Rory was adorable even while pouting, and she seemed eager to chat if it was on her terms. But Linda wasn’t here to probe into the girl’s life, so she turned the conversation back to Lucifer. “So, you said Rory, here, has made some accusations towards you?”

“False accusations,” Lucifer insisted.

Every therapy session with the Devil was an adventure, but this one was turning out delightfully humorous. What sort of things could the three year old even accuse Lucifer of? Stealing her toy?

She turned back to the girl and asked, “Has Lucifer made you angry recently?”

The girl’s grin returned. “Is it my turn now?”

“Sure,” Linda said just as Lucifer complained, “No!”

The little girl ignored him and excitedly told Linda, “I flew up to Heaven all by myself!”

Oh, that was… that had more to unpack there than she’d been prepared for.

Lucifer noticed her confusion and said, “Don’t believe a word she says. She’s full of lies.”

“No, we don’t lie to Aunt Linda,” the girl said. “I also beat up an angel!”

Linda asked Lucifer, “Have you told her you’re the Devil? Is that why she’s telling stories about Heaven and angels?”

“No, that part wasn’t a lie. She really did beat up an angel,” Lucifer said. “Or at least defended herself against one. She handled it quite well, too.” He gave the girl a nod of acknowledgment. “Very impressive fighting skills for an infant.”

“I know, thank you!” Rory said with a cutesy tilt of her head.

Linda was more confused now than before. “She beat up an angel?”

“Yes, my sister got it in her feathered brain to try and kidnap the child just because she’s an angel who dared to step foot on Earth.”

“Wait, she’s an angel?” Linda pointed at the toddler bouncing on the couch. That couldn’t be right.

“Part-angel,” Lucifer confirmed and sent Linda’s head spinning. Then, the three year old truly turned the world upside down by interjecting:

“Daddy fights good too.”

“Daddy?”

“Okay, that part is a lie!”

Lucifer caught her up on the events of the past few days and explained how this mysterious Rory had arrived at the precinct and claimed Lucifer was her father. The more he talked, the heavier the brick in Linda’s stomach grew.

“So… you have a daughter now?” she said.

“Of course, I don’t.”

“But you might?” Linda asked.

Lucifer huffed. “You’re not listening.”

He claimed Rory was an experiment of his father’s, an attempt to create angels on his own now that the Goddess of All Creation was locked away in a different universe. He said Rory was confused or didn’t understand or only had partial memories implanted. (As opposed to whole memories? Who was implanting them?) But every claim he made amounted to nothing more than conjecture, and each was a far, far reach from the few facts Linda was able to parse out of his desperation.

“Her wings are white?” she asked.

Lucifer said, “Yes, but it doesn’t mean anything.”

“But angels are supposed to have unique wing colors. That’s what Amenadiel told me.”

“And as I told Amenadiel,” Lucifer argued, “Mum didn’t make DNA simple and straightforward. The infant’s wings are probably just a mutation. It’s a total coincidence that they look like mine.”

“Wait, Amenadiel knows about her?” Linda’s dread swarmed into panic. “Since when? For how long?”

Lucifer leaned back in his seat with a sigh. “Look, we’re getting off-topic. I just wanted to introduce the infant. I actually have a much bigger issue to discuss with you today.”

Linda shook her head. “No, I think we should stay on this for a moment.”

“But the Detective knows I’m the Devil now,” Lucifer said. “That’s much more important!”

Yes, that was rather big news, and Linda certainly understood how that topic would be more important to Lucifer than a literal angel baby. But she had now slept with two angels in three years and was trying very hard not to freak out over angel babies being a possibility now. How easy was it to get pregnant from an angel? Did they get humans pregnant through the normal way or did it work differently because they were angels? Was it more difficult to get pregnant from an angel? Easier? Did human birth control still lower the odds or did angel sperm just shoot right through it?

“But has this ever happened before?” Linda asked. “Angel children?”

“No, because it’s impossible for angels to have children,” Lucifer said. “I told you, the infant is all my father’s fault.”

“Okay, but you had a DNA test done—“

Lucifer interrupted, “That test was completely wrong! It also tried to claim the Detective was the girl’s mother because DNA will point the finger at anyone. Humans should sue for that, except I suppose the guilty culprit is already locked away.”

Linda didn’t have an explanation for why the DNA results said Chloe was the toddler’s mother, but there was also no proof the results even did say that. Lucifer was upset and clearly in denial, so he could’ve been twisting the truth around to fit his beliefs.

“Let me just try and wrap my head around this,” Linda said. “This angel child showed up out of the blue, recognized you, called you ‘daddy’, and then you ran a DNA test that backed up that claim?”

“Correction: she didn’t recognize me. She thought I was my brother, Michael.”

Linda frowned. “What brother?”

“But you overlooked the most important part,” Lucifer continued instead of answering her.

“Which is?”

He leaned forward and firmly said, “I don’t. Have. A daughter!”

Rory reached out and tugged on his suit sleeve. “Daddy, can I play with the toys now?”

Lucifer ran his hands over his face with a groan. Ignoring the girl, he exclaimed, “Once again, the Detective knows I’m the Devil. Can we please talk about that?”

Linda took a deep breath and fought to retreat back into therapist mode instead of panicked ‘could I be pregnant with an angel baby’ mode. Later, she could have a long talk with Amenadiel (a very, very long talk) and presumably get more answers since he already knew about angel babies (and they’d be having a second long talk about that). But for now, she could be here to support Lucifer as he processed what was apparently a double whammy of a weekend.

“Okay, Chloe knows that you’re the Devil. How did she take that?”

“Terribly,” Lucifer said. “At first, that is, but then… better? She said she trusts me still.” He smiled. “And what’s more, I actually believe her, because when she said it, she also said I was more trustworthy than my sister.”

Linda said, “Your sister… the one who tried to take Rory?”

Lucifer nodded. “Yes, that one. You see, it can’t be denial if the Detective is comparing me to another angel. So, she truly knows who I am and still trusts me. Apparently, the Devil is better than a kidnapper in her eyes.”

“That certainly sounds promising.”

“Better than promising,” Lucifer contradicted. “It’s….”

He struggled to find the right word, so Linda suggested, “Relieving?”

“Yes… no…” Lucifer huffed. “It’s hard to know exactly what it is because there’s also this little thorn.” He gestured at Rory just as the girl bolted off the couch and made a dash across the room.

“Oh!”

“Infant!”

Lucifer growled and gave chase. Linda stood up as well, but neither reached the girl in time to stop her from flinging open the back cabinet.

“Oh no!” Rory exclaimed at the trash can she found inside.

Lucifer pulled her away and scolded, “Stay out of there!”

“Charlie’stoysaregone! Oh no!”

“Trash is not a toy. You’re mortal, remember? I’m quite sure that applies to germs and illnesses as well.”

He carried her back to the couch as Linda closed the cabinet again, but little Rory continued to cry out.

“Charlie’stoys! Theygotstolen!”

Lucifer said, “You would’ve had a toy to play with if you hadn’t left your doll in the car.”

“ButCharlie’stoysaregoneDaddy!”

“Is she saying the name Charlie?” Linda asked. “Is that someone she knows?”

“No, we don’t know anyone named Charlie — wait.” Lucifer frowned and turned to the girl. “Are you trying to say Charlotte?”

Rory calmed and looked up at Lucifer. “Charlie.”

“Right. I have no idea how you knew Charlotte Richards sees Dr. Linda as well, but she won’t be here today. She has her own appointments.”

“He, Daddy!”

“What?”

“Charlie’s a boy,” Rory said, firmly.

“Well, not as far as I’m aware,” Lucifer said. “But I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to ask if she’s changed pronouns the next time we see her.”

“No, he!” Rory angrily whined and stomped her feet against the base of the couch. Then, she heaved a dejected sigh that seemed much too large for such a little girl before slumping back in her seat.

Linda couldn’t leave such obvious body language unacknowledged. “Rory,” she prompted, “is there something you would like to say?”

The little girl fixed her world-weary eyes on Linda and in a solemn voice said, “Daddy doesn’t listen very well.”

The laugh that burst out of her was entirely unprofessional. Half of it was the surprised amusement of hearing a three year old echo Linda’s own thoughts during Lucifer’s sessions. The other half was the hysterical release of the shock and anxiety of meeting a baby angel. That part of her amusement was harder to reel in, and her laughter carried on for far too long. By the time Linda got herself back under control, Lucifer’s session was over, and she was still no closer to understanding the existence of baby angels.

She knew one thing for sure, though. Her date with Amenadiel tonight would go very differently than what they had originally planned.

Lucifer’s first (of many? and only? oh please, and only) morning alone with the infant was chaotic, anxious, loud, frustrating, and tedious in alternating waves — and yet it was also smoother than he’d feared it would be. Rory never once broke into a full sobbing tantrum or attempted to harm him. Though, she did screech quite unhappily when he’d pulled her out the kitchen cabinet she’d entombed herself in. Her teeny, tiny infant brain didn’t comprehend concepts like getting stuck or suffocating to death, but Lucifer’s racing heart sure did.

When she wasn’t screeching, the creature talked. A lot. Incessantly, in fact. She asked questions, needled him for things, and babbled on and on to him, to herself, to the bust sitting on a shelf annoyingly (to her) just out of reach. Half the time, her stories were obviously fantastical, blending cartoon logic with zoo animals (and space travel?). The other half of the time, she wove confusingly realistic tales featuring a mix of people she knew and people she couldn’t possibly have met that had him wondering if she was part psychic in addition to being part angel.

On the surface, it appeared the infant was much less skilled at listening than she was at talking, but Lucifer quickly learned, that that was all it was: an appearance. An illusion. A lie. The little imp put on the act of ignorance to pretend she couldn’t hear him or that she didn’t comprehend what ‘Don’t stand on the table! That’s glass!’ meant. In truth, she understood and retained every single word and would often parrot them back to him when he least expected it. After his unproductive talk with Linda, they’d gone out and purchased a better car seat than the police loaner. During the drive home, Rory had suddenly asked him, unprompted, “Did you kill Auntie Maze?”

“What?” Lucifer said. “Why would I kill her?”

“Because you said so.”

“When?”

“Yesterday.”

Lucifer thought back and remembered the knife behind the bookcase incident. “Maze is fine. I haven’t even seen her since then.”

“Because she’s bounty-huntering?”

And there was that odd hint of mind-reading. When had Rory learned Maze was a bounty hunter?

“She was, but she’s home now and probably still cooling off. She was rather testy when we last saw her, remember?”

“Is Aunt Eve home too?” the infant asked brightly.

Lucifer shot her a sharp glance through the rearview mirror. “Who?”

But Rory didn’t respond. Instead, she spent the rest of the drive babbling about how proud this Aunt Eve would be when she heard how Rory had beaten up an angel ‘all by herself’.

“I’m a badass!”

No, you’re a fog-cloaked enigma. Who the fuck was this child?

Despite her repeated reassurances this morning, Chloe was late returning for lunch. Thankfully, Rory didn’t notice. Her stomach had declared lunch two hours earlier, and so, full and happy, she played with Trixie’s old toys, unconcerned with who was and wasn’t there. When Chloe did finally arrive, she rushed off the elevator looking stressed and tossing out a dozen apologies for each step she took.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, we had a last minute interview that, of course, could only be scheduled over the guy’s lunch break, never mind my own.”

Lucifer felt a pang of jealousy that she’d interviewed another suspect without him, a pang that deepened when the Detective’s gaze skirted right past him to search for the infant.

“Rory? I’m back — whoa….” Chloe spotted the large blanket fort that had taken over his living room. “You two have been busy.”

“The infant doesn’t have an off switch,” Lucifer dryly replied. His sarcasm was upstaged by said infant crawling out of the fort and squealing at Chloe.

“Mommy!”

Chloe grinned. “Monkey!” She dropped to her knees as Rory sprinted over to tackle her in a big hug. “Ohhh, I’ve missed you so much!” She squeezed Rory tightly. “Have you been having fun with Daddy?”

“With Lucifer,” he instantly corrected her. “Get her to say my name.”

“Right, sorry.” The Detective glanced up at him with more of an eye roll than an apology.

Rory giggled. “He’s silly.”

“Oh, just so silly,” Chloe agreed in that tooth-achingly sugary voice.

Lucifer wanted to argue. Better yet, he wanted to rage and vent. Between the two of them, couldn’t Chloe tell he was the one in distress? Certainly not the pampered infant. But before he could even utter an indignant ‘excuse me’, he realized how fruitless it would be. The Detective’s attention was focused exclusively on Rory. In fact, she looked relieved to see the girl which made matters so much worse.

Had he been too quick to believe her when she’d said she’d still trusted him? Was she not stressed over work but over the infant’s safety after leaving the girl in his care? But there was no interrogation, no pointed questions, no checking the infant over for injury. Chloe and the girl simply chatted the way Chloe would chat with her daughter after a school day. Nothing more, nothing less.

The revelation hit him like the reluctant understanding of the damned. Chloe really had missed the infant this morning. That’s why she was so relieved to see her now. She wasn’t patronizing the girl. She’d truly, honestly missed her.

As baffling as that was (Lucifer was quite sure he would never, ever miss the girl and wished she would disappear from the face of the earth right now), a second, more unsettling, thought slithered into his mind right behind it. Someone else should be missing Rory, too. If — as impossible as it was — his father hadn’t made the girl after all… if Rory was actually his daughter… then somewhere out there she had a mother. Someone who had taken care of Rory before the girl was dropped on his doorstep, someone who must have loved her very much given how healthy and spoiled the girl was. Was she worrying about Rory at this very minute?

Lucifer tried to shove the thought away, but it clung to him as tightly as the infant’s sticky, pinching hands.

“Oh, guess what?” Rory announced. “I got a new car seat.”

“You did?” Chloe said.

“Yeah, it’s almost as good as ours,” the girl said. “But it’s orange so it’s also better.”

“You got an orange car seat?”

“It has orange straps,” Lucifer clarified. “But she still had to play Goldilocks with the dozen other models at the store before she decided the orange one was the best.”

Chloe grinned like the infant’s fussiness was a delightful discovery.

“You’re picky, aren’t you?” she teased the girl.

Rory giggled at the tone and, far too proudly, replied, “Thank you!”

The Detective laughed and stood up with the girl in her arms. “Have you eaten lunch yet? Are you hungry?”

All smiles evaporated as Rory fell into a serious pout. “No, I haven’t eaten at all.”

“Liar!” Lucifer said with a scowl. He told Chloe, “She ate a peanut butter and banana sandwich the second we got home. She insisted on it.”

“Well, maybe she’s still hungry,” Chloe said.

“Well, maybe she shouldn’t have her thrown her plate of snacks on the floor,” Lucifer countered.

Chloe frowned, but, infuriatingly, it was his actions she questioned, not the three year old’s. “How many snacks did you give her?”

“One of each just like the Urchin suggested,” Lucifer said. “She declared fudge-striped cookies was the winner before she’d even sampled half of them. Then, when I wouldn’t hand over the rest of the package like she requested, she got pissy with me and flipped her plate right off the table.”

Chloe bit back a smirk. “Wow, that is so much funnier when it’s not my kid.” She turned to the infant and said, “Rory, we don’t throw things to get our way. That’s not how it works, okay?”

The manipulative infant curled sadly into Chloe’s shoulder. “But I cleaned it up.”

“After I made you! And I still had to go back over it myself,” Lucifer said. To Chloe, he added, “She’s terrible with a broom.”

For some frustrating reason, Chloe’s smirk grew. “Wow, look at you doling out sandwiches and punishments.”

“Because I’m the Devil.”

“So, you make peanut butter and banana sandwiches?” Chloe teased.

“So, I punish people!” Lucifer finally snapped. “That’s my job! I’m not a bloody father!”

The teasing slipped off the Detective’s face, but it did nothing to appease his anger. Then, the damn infant opened her mouth to make a fool of him once again.

“I think Daddy needs a nap.”

The corner of Chloe’s lips twitched upwards again, and Lucifer slammed his hands down on the bar.

“That’s it, I’ve changed my mind.” He glared at Rory. “Feel free to go out on the balcony any time you like, infant — in fact, please, let’s head out there now. Maybe you’ll tumble over the railing and I won’t have to see you anymore.

He marched off to the balcony. For the first time in days, he unlocked the doors and stepped outside. A blast of dry wind hit him and grabbed him by the chest. It felt like he hadn’t been outside — truly outside — in days either. Stepping out to run errands with the infant didn’t count. Lucifer needed space to breathe, space to be free. The penthouse wasn’t safe anymore, not with the infant around. It didn’t belong to him. Nothing belonged to him lately. Not his relationship with the Detective, not his home, not even his own bloody body now that his wings were back. It was all Dad’s, Dad’s, Dad’s.

He glared up into the cloudless sky. “You’re probably laughing it up right now, aren’t you, Dad?” The urge to throw or punch swept over him, but there was nothing around to hit. “Fuck!”

Chloe walked out onto the balcony, and Lucifer cursed again.

“Oh, perfect. What’s the lecture this time, Detective? Don’t curse in front of the infant? Don’t raise your voice?”

“I’m just checking on you,” Chloe said calmly.

“Right,” Lucifer scoffed. “You left the infant alone, you know.”

“She’s picking up her toys so we can eat lunch in the blanket fort.”

The damn brat really was picking up. Lucifer could see her through the window. He didn’t know why he was surprised by that. Of course, she would be cleaning up; the infant always listened to what Chloe said. In fact, Chloe should just take the girl to live with her since they got along so well. She could have two daughters, and he could go back to having none. It would suit him just fine.

He shook his head and stared out over the balcony railing.

“Lucifer, what happened?” Chloe asked. “Has Rory been acting out? Did she cause trouble during your therapy appointment?”

“Oh, she certainly did that,” he said. “The little worm broke Linda and made her completely useless to me again. And then she accused me of not listening!”

Chloe frowned. “Rory or Linda?”

“Rory,” Lucifer snapped. “Who do you think has been driving me up the wall all day? It’s all Rory, Rory, Rory!”

In a neutral tone, Chloe said, “Yeah, three year olds are a lot of work.”

“Work I’m not supposed to be doing, because she’s not supposed to be here!” Lucifer said. “Dr. Linda couldn’t wrap her head around it. Kept asking me how a baby angel happened, like I have all the answers. Well, guess what, Detective? I don’t! I don’t have any bloody idea how or why there’s a baby angel walking around on Earth. You know who probably does? My Father!” He turned and shouted up at the sky. “But of course, you won’t share that answer with us, will you, Dad? Because when do you ever do that?”

“Lucifer—“

“You’ll just sit up there, watching from on high, judging us as we all fuck up whatever plans you made.” He gave a wild laugh. “Or worse, we’re all playing right into your hands again. Is that what this? Another game?”

“Lucifer!”

The heat of Chloe’s hand on his arm froze the breath in his throat. He looked back at her, still shaking with too much rage.

“Stop,” Chloe said. “There’s no point in yelling at your Father. He’s not here right now.”

“Exactly why I’m yelling at Him!” Lucifer said. “He’s screwing with my head again, and I’m bloody sick of it!”

“Rory is the one who’s here right now.”

“But she isn’t supposed to be!” Lucifer argued. “Baby angels don’t exist. Fact. End of story.”

“And yet she does! And she’s inside, right now“

“She’s a mutant,” Lucifer said. “Or an experiment or a mistake that my Father—“

“Stop it!” Chloe cut in. “Stop trying to explain it when we don’t have an explanation.”

Lucifer threw his hands up in the air. “News flash, Detective, that’s exactly what everyone is doing! Every single person including you keep insisting that she’s my daughter. Well, what makes that explanation any more true than mine?”

The frustration slipped from Chloe’s face. The argument halted.

“You’re right.”

“What?”

“We are all jumping to conclusions,” Chloe said. “None of us actually know what’s true.”

Was she really agreeing with him? That was… disorienting.

“So… Rory’s not my daughter now?” he asked. “And we’re going to stop assuming she is?”

“We’re going to stop assuming anything,” Chloe said, “and instead treat this like one of our cases.”

Lucifer’s confusion deepened. “The infant hasn’t murdered anyone. She’s just annoying.”

Chloe replied, “No, not treating it like a murder. I mean just in general. If this was a case, then we would need to back up and start gathering evidence with an open mind instead of only looking for the evidence that fits our theory.”

“Your theory is impossible!”

“Every theory for Rory’s existence sounds impossible,” Chloe argued back. “God creating a toddler angel for the first time in all of history? That sounds ridiculous.”

Petulantly, Lucifer said, “It could’ve been my mother.”

“Which is as equally impossible as an angel having a child, by the sounds of it,” Chloe said. “So, we should stop looking for what is or isn’t possible and instead focus on figuring out what explanation best fits the evidence.”

Oh, he did not like where she was going with this. The only evidence they had right now were Rory’s white wings and the DNA results.

“But that just brings us back to me being her father.”

Chloe nodded. “So, we pursue the lead.”

“That’s not a lead. It’s slander,” Lucifer said, but the Detective ignored him.

“If you’re really Rory’s father, then that means she has a mother,” Chloe said. “A human mother right here on Earth that we can track down.”

“If there is a mother to track down.”

“I know, but we have try.” Chloe asked him, “You don’t happen to have a little black book somewhere listing everyone you slept with about 4 years ago, do you?”

He didn’t. But he could easily make one. Lucifer didn’t forget a face, but in this moment, he wished he could.

“It’s a long list,” he warned, on the needle-thin chance the Detective would balk at pursuing this line of investigation.

But even that needle-thin chance was destroyed when Chloe simply shrugged. “Yeah, I remember how long your list of sexual partners was for eight weeks. I can estimate what a whole year is going to look like.” She turned thoughtful. “But we might not even need the full year if Rory knows when her birthday is. Have you tried asking her?”

“Even if she does, there’s no telling we can believe….” He trailed off as he glimpsed Rory through the balcony window. The girl had her face pressed up against the glass, mouth spread open, as she made distorted faces at them.

“Rory!” he barked. “Knock that off! You’re smudging the glass.”

The infant jumped back from the window. She tensed when Chloe looked over as well and clasped her hands behind her back to feign innocence.

But Chloe didn’t scold the girl. Instead, she wrinkled her nose with a conspiratorial smile and beckoned the girl outside. Rory brightened into a grin and ran for the door.

“Don’t actually let her out here!” Lucifer complained. “I didn’t mean what I said earlier.” But he was ignored. Rory excitedly ran onto the balcony, and Chloe picked her up to carry her on her hip.

“Hi, monkey. Did you finish cleaning up?”

The infant pointed at the city skyline behind Chloe’s shoulder and cooed, “Pretty.”

“Yeah, it is pretty,” Chloe said. “Lucifer has a really nice view, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah.” Then, Rory’s face fell into a perfect mimicry of pitiful sadness. “Daddy, I broke a blanket.”

Lucifer had already grown accustomed to not understanding seventy-five percent of what the girl said, but this wasn’t fantastical imaginings or potential fortune telling. It was just run-of-the-mill infant nonsense.

“You broke a blanket,” he repeated. Nope, it didn’t make any more sense when he said it.

“Yeah, it fell down.”

He rolled his eyes. “So, you broke the blanket fort.”

“Aw, well we can fix that for you,” Chloe said. She kissed the girl’s cheek which earned her another grin. “Are you ready for your second lunch now?”

“Yeah! I’m so hungry.”

“Oh, you’re so hungry. You poor thing,” the Detective baby-talked to the girl.

Joy once again radiated from Chloe as she carried Rory inside. Lucifer’s mood, though, darkened. He understood why Chloe was so determined to find the girl’s mother, and it wasn’t to gather more evidence to explain the girl’s existence. No, Chloe saw a lost and helpless child who’d been abandoned, and she wanted to get justice for the girl.

But Lucifer wasn’t convinced it was the girl’s mother who should be punished.

Chapter Text

The rest of the week blurred into a cacophony of toys and boxes and noise. From happy squeals and furious screeches to sharp banging plastic and the low murmur of the television — the penthouse was never quiet. Ordinarily, noise wouldn’t bother Lucifer. In fact, he regularly welcomed it into his life in the form of parties or the club or even just playing the piano to himself, but the noise of a three year old running rampant was uniquely exhausting.

He bought Rory a toddler bed. It was both cartoon branded for that Paw Patrol show she loved and came with a cheap, gauzy canopy she refused to let him replace. Trixie took one look at it and smiled in such a knowing way that Lucifer preemptively said, “Say the word ‘princess’ and I’m taking the TV out of your room.”

“Okay,” Trixie said. “But if you’re a king, then that would make Rory royalty, too.” Lucifer didn’t dignify that with a response.

His living room quickly morphed into a daycare center. The blanket fort came down at night, but had to be crafted all over again the second the infant demanded it or the stomping would begin. Typically, this happened as soon as the Detective left for work, and then Rory would pull him under the haphazard tent to watch their morning Fringe episode. The girl often commented about how similar the protagonist was to Chloe. “But Mommy is better,” she said, which Lucifer couldn’t argue with. However, he could and did argue with the infant’s unyielding admiration of Walter.

“He’s so funny.” Rory grinned.

“He is not. That man is a monster who’s responsible for at least half of these cases.”

“Don’t call people monsters, Daddy. That’s mean.”

“He’s the mean one! Why do you think his son hates him so much?”

A baby-gate was installed to block the stairs down to the library, and then an armchair was added to block the baby-gate when Rory proved too adept at working the latch. Lucifer also bought two-inch thick gymnastics mats to spread over the floor because he still didn’t trust the infant’s ability to stay upright, and the girl refused to wear the socks he’d found that had grips on the bottom.

“I’m not a baby,” Rory said and swatted the socks away.

“Yes, you are! What do you think a baby is?” Lucifer replied.

On the night when throwing himself down the elevator shaft sounded more appealing than spending one more second with the mercurial infant — who never, ever, ever took a nap despite what the books said — Chloe stepped in and took Rory shopping for clothes the girl would actually deign to wear. (She liked one shirt, two pants, and no shoes, not even the ones she’d shown up in. The fuzzy pajamas pulled double duty currently, but their days were numbered. They had already been washed four times in three days because the girl was the messiest eater in existence.)

Lucifer expected relief and at least a couple of hours of peace while they were shopping. He was wrong. Instead of casually sipping a whiskey or playing the piano or even taking a nap himself without the infant getting in his face, he found himself restlessly pacing the penthouse while his thoughts tangled themselves into knots over Rory. Should she have eaten dinner before going shopping? Was she cheerfully picking out clothes that she would refuse to wear the second she got home? Was she even cooperating at all or had she finally turned against the Detective as well, shrieking and stomping until Chloe brought the girl back home, gave him a curt ‘good luck’, and then walked out, never to be seen again?

An agonizing ninety-five minutes later, Chloe and Rory returned to the penthouse with smiles and shopping bags.

“I got Paw Patrol jammies!” the girl declared, nearly vibrating in excitement, and then she ran off to her toy-covered gym mats.

Lucifer turned to Chloe. “What the hell just happened?”

Chloe frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Lucifer filled her in on all the torture his brain had put him through while they were gone. “How did the infant manage to worm her way inside my head like that?”

Chloe simply nodded. “Oh, believe me, I feel it too.”

“Feel what?”

“Worry.” Chloe carried the bags of new clothes into Rory’s room. “I hate leaving her in the mornings for work.”

Lucifer followed close behind. “But you send your actual daughter off to school everyday without blinking an eye.”

“And some days, I still worry about Trixie,” Chloe said. “You don’t stop worrying with time. You just learn to work around it.”

That wasn’t comforting in the slightest.

On another afternoon, Maze arrived with a bow-adorned box and a grin.

“Clearly, someone’s in a better mood,” Lucifer said when he saw her.

Maze held out her arms. “Everything’s coming up Maze again. Now, where’s my girl?”

“What girl?”

But at the sound of Maze’s voice, Rory dropped her toys and sprinted over, shouting, “Auntie Maze!”

Maze’s grin widened. “There she is!” Shockingly, Maze allowed the infant to tackle her in a hug and even squeezed her back. “Here, I got you something.”

She handed over the box, and Rory tore off the lid. “Knives!”

They weren’t real knives, thankfully. The ones she pulled out were merely curved foam with taped handles and ‘blades’ that were as blindingly bedazzled as Trixie’s practice knives.

“Do you like it?” Maze asked. “I heard you’ve already been kicking angel ass.”

Rory held the knives above her head in victory. “Yeah, I’m a badass! Watch!”

As the infant ran off to stab her stuffed animals, Lucifer questioned Maze. “Why did you do that?”

“Hey, the kid is pretty good with those.” Maze stood up and folded her arms over her chest. “It was a thank you present.”

“A thank you for what?”

“For existing,” Maze said with a smile. “She’s totally cock-blocked Linda and Amenadiel.”

“What?”

“I know! They’re freaking out because no one knows how you managed to knock up a human yet.” Maze laughed. “No angel’s going to have sex again, thanks to you! Isn’t that great?” She cocked her head to the side. “Huh, maybe I should’ve gotten you a present, too.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Wonderful.”

They still didn’t have proof the girl was his daughter. They tried repeatedly to learn Rory’s birthday, but either she didn’t know it or she had no desire to share it. All they received when they asked was either a blank stare or a giggling “What’s your birthday?” parroted back to them. As a result, they were forced to check into Lucifer’s full list of liaisons from 2014 (with a couple of extra months in both directions just in case the girl had her age wrong). Chloe insisted on dividing the list to cover more ground, but it was still a slow search. Multiple children appeared on the social media pages he scrolled through, but none matched Rory’s age or description.

It should comfort him. Each crossed off name lowered the odds of Rory being his daughter. But instead of breathing a sigh of relief, Lucifer’s stomach twisted in dread as if he was counting down to his impending doom.

By the time Friday arrived and Ella announced she was ready to redo the DNA test, Lucifer’s dread sat like a thousand pound weight in his gut. He was mentally tired from thinking about the infant all week, he was physically tired from chasing her, and he was emotionally drained of patience as Rory, once again, kicked her foot out of reach so he couldn’t put her shoe on.

“Infant!” he scolded.

Rory giggled like she’d been born a demon whose sole job was to torture him rather than… well, whoever she was. Lucifer reached for her foot again, but Rory scooted herself over to the next couch cushion. He growled and debated whether or not it was permissible for him to tie her up so she couldn’t squirm away anymore.

Luckily for Rory, the elevator interrupted his debate. Charlotte walked into the penthouse with her arms laden with books and said, “Oh good, you’re here.”

“We’re just about to head out, actually,” Lucifer said as Rory pulled herself up to look over the back of the couch. The girl’s face lit up when she saw Charlotte.

“You’re pretty!” Rory pointed.

“Sit your butt back down, infant.” Lucifer grabbed her around the waist and forced her to obey. Immediately, Rory twisted her body back around to stare at Charlotte. She stopped kicking her feet, though, so Lucifer took the opportunity to slip her first shoe on.

Charlotte dropped her stack of books on the coffee table. “I have some questions for you.”

“Can it wait?” Lucifer asked, struggling to tie Rory’s laces when her foot was tilted at such an odd angle. “The Detective’s assigned me to school pick up duty because everyone else who does it is busy working.” (A fact he was supremely bitter about. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been allowed to work. Well, he could. It had been Wednesday night when he’d played piano in the club for a whole, entire hour — but it had been pre-infant when he’d last gotten to help Chloe with a case.)

“Public schools don’t let out until three,” Charlotte said.

“Yes, and if we don’t get there twenty minutes ‘til, we’ll be stuck in a line a mile long.”

“Why would you bother going early?” Charlotte asked. “You should wait thirty minutes and let the line clear out. Then, you pick up your kid.”

“Just try that argument with the Detective.” Lucifer huffed when Rory rose to her knees and jerked her foot out of reach again. He sat her back forward and said, “You like Trixie, remember? So, do you want to pick her up from school or not?”

“Where’s Tee’s car?” the girl asked.

“She can’t drive.”

Rory grinned. “Yeah, she does! She drives really fast!”

“I’m sure she would, but her mother wouldn’t let me teach her.” Rory twisted back to Charlotte, and Lucifer growled. “Foot in the shoe, child.”

“You look like Charlie’s picture,” Rory said, pointing up to Charlotte.

“That’s because she is Charlotte.” For the third time, he sat her forward on the couch and gripped her ankle so she couldn’t move. Finally, her second shoe slid on and the struggle to tie the laces resumed.

“What are you even looking into?” he asked Charlotte.

Charlotte replied, “Oh, right. Well, I still can’t get a straight answer on what the hierarchy is in Hell. I’ve been doing all this reading, but it’s gotten me nowhere.”

“Because most people who experience Hell don’t return to write books about it.” Lucifer finally managed to tie both shoes on Rory’s feet. He released the gremlin and glanced at the pile of books Charlotte had brought in. “What sort of junk have you been reading?”

“Excuse me, this is research,” Charlotte said. “Some of us are human and need to learn how the afterlife works — and let me tell you, it’s a lot less clearcut than the maze of California and federal laws. What’s the minimum sentence for Hell?”

“Eternity.”

“For everyone?”

“That’s how it works.” Lucifer stood up and searched the living room for Rory’s jacket.

“But even some murderers have a chance of parole,” Charlotte argued.

“Hell isn’t prison. Not human prison anyway.” No, that wasn’t quite right, either. Lucifer amended, “Not a consciously created prison. Hell runs on the human subconscious.”

“So what, humans subconsciously want to torture ourselves for all eternity?” Charlotte asked. “I want to torture myself for all eternity?”

“If you feel guilty.” He absolutely could not find Rory’s jacket anywhere. Where had they put that? They always took it off by the elevator if Rory hadn’t already peeled it off on the way up.

Charlotte said, “Ah ha, yes, but there are different levels of guilt. Just like there are those different levels of evil.”

Lucifer shook his head. Humans were always denying responsibility for their actions and seeking out loopholes to escape the consequences. That’s how so many of them ended up in Hell when they died, but he had hoped Charlotte realized she needed to do things differently this time around.

“Infant,” he called out, but Rory was busy digging through her pile of dolls. He whistled to get her attention. “Rory, did you run off with your jacket?”

Belatedly, the girl looked up. “What?”

“Go fetch your jacket,” Lucifer repeated. “We need to leave.”

He’d discovered over this past week that if he didn’t know where something was, he could simply tell the infant to grab it, and, much like a dog, she’d run straight to it without a penthouse-wide search. It was almost as if she had hidden the item on purpose.

This time, however, Rory opted to argue with him. “It’s summer.”

“It is not summer, and you can’t regulate your temperature yet,” Lucifer said. “It’s windy today, so get your jacket on.”

Rory fell into a deeply bitter pout and refused to move. But she did jerk her gaze over to the armchair blocking the stairs, and — lo and behold — there was her jacket, stretched over the back like the girl had attempted to use it as a rope to scale over the chair.

Charlotte asked, “Are there really nine divisions in Hell or are there more?”

“Nine?” The specificity jerked Lucifer’s attention back to Charlotte. “Tell me you aren’t reading what I think you’re reading.”

He marched over and grabbed the book from Charlotte’s hands. He rolled his eyes at the title.

“Dante’s Inferno? Really?” He flung it down on the coffee table with a scoff. “More like Dante’s Imaginary World. There aren’t levels to Hell. You’re either tortured for all eternity or you’re not. You don’t get a lesser punishment for only being a little bit guilty.” He shook his head and stalked off to grab Rory’s jacket from the chair.

“So, I’m just screwed then?” Charlotte sunk down to the couch. “You’re the Devil, can’t you give me, I don’t know, a free pass up to Heaven? Or at least a ‘get out of Hell free’ card?”

“I’ve been banished from Heaven, so no.”

Rory’s pout escalated into defiance. She whined and pulled away when Lucifer tried to slip her jacket on her.

“What about Amenadiel?” Charlotte asked. “He can still get into Heaven, right?”

“He doesn’t have his wings anymore.”

Still, Rory fought him. When she tugged her arm out of reach for the fourth time, Lucifer switched tactics. He wrapped the jacket around her body and tied the arms together to hold it in place. The infant stomped her feet and cried without tears over her arms being trapped, but Lucifer didn’t budge.

“Maybe you’ll be willing to wear it properly by the time we get to the car,” he said. Then, he picked her up to carry her sideways under his arm and turned to Charlotte.

“You want the Devil’s advice? Stop looking for loopholes and the easy way out. The only way to avoid Hell is to focus on your life. Make amends, do better — what happened to the murder you were helping the Detective investigate?”

Charlotte waved her hand in dismissal. “Oh, Chloe doesn’t want my help. I’m bad at doing the right thing! That’s the problem.”

“Then do better, like I said,” Lucifer emphasized. Being carried sideways had turned the infant’s angry protests into giggles, so he shifted her to his hip and asked if she was ready to wear her jacket correctly. Rory shook her head no.

“God, I don’t miss that age,” Charlotte said. Then, her eyes narrowed. “Hang on, if she does turn out to be your daughter, would she be allowed into Heaven?”

With an eye roll, Lucifer said, “You have this entire second chance to get things right. Don’t waste it obsessing over shortcuts you’ll never find.” He saw his words land, but couldn’t be sure if Charlotte truly absorbed them. Only time would tell. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a school pick up line to suffer through. Come along, infant.”

Rory giggled as he spun them towards the elevator. One of her arms wiggled free of its constraints, and she waved back at Charlotte.

“She’s pretty, Daddy.”

“You’re putting that arm in your jacket when you’re done waving.”

Chloe read back through Joey Pillegi’s text history for the fourth time that day. There had to be something she was missing: a jilted lover, a jealous friend, even a loan shark who was pissed Pillegi had come into all this easy cash. There was something personal about his murder that said his killer knew him. Why else stage it as a mob hit? And yet the lack of destruction or theft at his apartment suggested it wasn’t a heat of the moment attack. There was no anger in it. Instead, Pillegi’s death had been quick. Impersonal. How could a murder be both personal and impersonal? Pillegi had been specifically targeted, but why? And by who?

It could’ve been a professional hit. No physical evidence had turned up besides the hairs they couldn’t test yet, and those hairs could just as easily belong to Pillegi instead of his killer.

A mob hit would’ve been professional. Chloe sighed. And now she was right back around to where she’d started. The scene read like a mob hit, but the details didn’t add up. So, it had to be a frame job. But who would frame the scene without leaving more evidence? Oh right, a professional, like someone in the mob — and on and on and on the loop went. She just needed something, anything, to break the loop and give her a new lead to chase.

“Hey.”

Chloe startled when she saw Dan standing in front of her desk.

He grimaced. “Sorry!”

“No, I was lost in my thoughts.” She ran her hands over her face and groaned. “The minutia of someone else’s text messages might be permanently embedding itself in my brain by now.”

“No lead on the mob case yet, huh?” Dan asked.

“That’s the problem,” Chloe said. “The vic was in the mob and he certainly wasn’t hiding that fact, but his death doesn’t seem to have anything to do with it. It doesn’t seem to have anything to do with anything, in fact, which is really annoying. There’s a connection I’m missing somewhere. I just can’t figure it out.” She shook her head. “Sorry, did you want to ask something?”

Dan held up his phone. “Maze wants to watch Trixie at your place when she baby-sits tomorrow. You cool with that?”

Chloe said, “Yeah, that’s fine. I think Trixie was wanting to grab some different hair clips from home anyway.” She grimaced. “This week has been so chaotic for her. Poor thing is getting dragged around to three houses now.”

“She’s not exactly complaining,” Dan said. “All Trix talks about is how awesome the penthouse is — well, in between her updates on how Lucifer’s doing as a dad.” He smirked. “God, that sounds so weird to call him a dad.”

“Yeah, to him too still,” Chloe said. “But hopefully now that Ella has the PCR machine back up and running, we can get final confirmation that he is Rory’s dad.”

Dan asked, “And then what? Do you think he’s ready to take on a three year old solo, yet? Overnight, I mean. Not just during the day.”

The idea of leaving Rory alone overnight filled Chloe with a sickening dread. She tried to cover it. “Um, yeah, he’s figuring things out. I’m sure he could handle Rory on his own.”

Dan knew her too well and saw right through her attempt to hide her feelings. “But let me guess, Rory still needs time to adjust.”

That was the logical assumption to make if she wasn’t worried about Lucifer’s ability to care for Rory by himself — but it wasn’t the truth either. Chloe hadn’t been able to leave the precinct for lunch yesterday, and Rory had been fine. She hadn’t been upset about it at all, which meant she’d probably handle being alone with Lucifer overnight too, but…. Chloe wasn’t sure she could handle it. She’d grown used to taking care of Rory. She loved listening to the girl’s enthusiastic (if brutal) stories and guiding her through dinner preparations when she asked to help and arguing with her over whether or not shivering meant it was finally time to get out of the bathtub. Chloe didn’t even mind getting kicked in the middle of the night when Rory chose not to sleep in her own bed because she actually found it amusing how restless Rory was until she fell into a deep sleep. But more than all of that, she loved the way Rory’s face lit up each night when she came home. Her smiles hit her just as hard as Trixie’s smiles did, because those smiles were meant just for her. She wasn’t Rory’s real mom — she knew that — but Rory’s real mom had abandoned her. Chloe didn’t want to upset her all over again by leaving her, too.

“A lot’s changed for her,” Chloe said. “A new home and guardians would be scary for any kid, but the poor thing’s only three.”

Dan nodded in understanding. “Yeah, that’s rough. Have you tracked down her mother yet?”

“No. I just finished my half of Lucifer’s list today. Either Rory’s mother had her completely off the record or we missed something.” Missing a crucial clue seemed to be the running theme this week.

“Maybe you should try questioning Rory about it. See if she can give you any more info.”

“Dan, she’s three and just got abandoned by the only parent she’s known. I don’t want to re-traumatize her.”

“I’m not saying interrogate her,” Dan clarified. “I mean bring in a counselor, see what they can learn from her.”

Chloe had had that thought before, and if Rory had been fully human, she would’ve already brought in a specialist. But Rory was an angel, and that information shouldn’t be made public.

“It’s complicated,” she said.

Again, Dan misjudged the source of her reluctance. “Talk to Lucifer. See if you can convince him to let someone talk to her.”

“Mom!”

Chloe glanced over on instinct, though she didn’t realize she should be looking for her daughter until her eyes landed on Trixie. God, that was weird. She’d honestly been expecting a three year old for a second. It had only been a week, but she’d already acclimated to having two children call her ‘mom’.

Trixie hit the bottom of the stairs and ran over to them, unconcerned that this was a workplace. She caught herself when she reached Chloe’s desk though and said, “Oh wait.” She put on her ‘I’m innocent’ smile. “Hi, Mommy. Hi, Daddy.”

“Hey, monkey. How was school?” Dan asked.

“Fine.” Trixie dropped her smile. “Now, I have a legal question for you guys.”

Chloe snorted as Dan threw up his hand in an ‘of course’ gesture.

“What? I said hi first like you wanted,” Trixie protested.

Shaking her head, Chloe said, “Go on. What’s your question?”

“Is it illegal to drive with a baby in a convertible?”

“No,” Chloe said slowly. Her daughter now had her worried about what Lucifer had done during the car ride over here. “But the car seat needs to be properly restrained. Why?”

Neither worried for a three year old nor stumped by a confusing case, Dan opted to tease Trixie. “You know, technically you aren’t allowed to ride in Lucifer’s convertible.”

“No, I’m not allowed to drive it,” Trixie said.

“Correct,” Chloe replied to her daughter’s grumpy side-eye.

“Also, kids under twelve shouldn’t ride in the front seat. It’s not safe,” Dan said. “But his convertible doesn’t have a backseat which means you don’t have a place to sit.”

Trixie scowled at this news. “That’s not why I asked. We didn’t even take his convertible. Lucifer picked me up in some boring car because he said Rory would fly out of her seat if there wasn’t a roof.”

She rolled her eyes like this was a ridiculous concern to have, but Chloe knew Lucifer was worried Rory would literally fly out of her seat. Honestly, Chloe was worried too. Just because the girl hadn’t attempted to fly yet, didn’t mean she would always be content with keeping her feet on the ground.

Dan asked, “Can Rory undo the buckles on her car seat?”

Trixie shrugged. “Only sometimes.”

“Then, that’s why he took the boring car.” Dan turned to Chloe. “You’re right, he is getting the hang of this dad thing.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Trixie said with authority. “There’s still quite a few things on the Dad List he hasn’t crossed off yet.”

Okay, Chloe no idea what this Dad List was, but she assumed it had something to do with Trixie’s self-appointed mission to teach Lucifer how to be a father.

“Where are Lucifer and Rory?” she asked. “They didn’t drop you off and leave, did they?”

“No, they got stopped by Rory’s fan club.” Trixie said with another eye roll.

“Who’s her fan club?” Dan asked.

“Is it Flora?” To Dan, Chloe added, “Flora is working the front desk again.”

“Yeah, and like five other people,” Trixie said. “I got bored so I came downstairs on my own.” A mischievous smirk broke out, and her daughter leaned in closer. “I think Rory’s trying to win presents from them. Or at least get free candy.”

Chloe chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure she is. She can be quite the ham.”

“Hm,” Dan said, “wonder if that sounds like someone else we know?”

Trixie straightened up with a frown. “It’s not me, is it?”

“No.” Dan laughed. “I was talking about Lucifer — or Rory’s dad as he’ll have to start calling himself soon.”

Trixie’s face lit up again, and she spun towards Chloe. “Oh! You guys are testing your DNA again today, right? Can I test mine too?”

“Why do you want your DNA tested?” she asked.

“Yeah, why?” Dan echoed. “You suddenly think we’re not your parents or something? Cause I’ve got hospital pictures that prove otherwise.”

Trixie said, “No, I just want to know what my DNA looks like.” She grinned. “I bet it’s so cool! So, can I get tested?”

Chloe shrugged at Dan. “It’s okay with me.”

He agreed too and pointed Trixie to the lab. “Go make sure Ella’s okay with it first, though.”

“Yes! This is going to be awesome!”

Dan shook his head in amusement as their daughter ran off to the lab. “She’s going to be so disappointed when she doesn’t get to see a double helix.”

“Absolutely gutted,” Chloe agreed.

Lucifer’s voice drifted through the precinct. He carried Rory in his arms as he made his way down the stairs. The small crowd of people Trixie had dubbed ‘Rory’s fan club’ trailed close behind him.

“Alright, yes. That’s enough,” he said. When the crowd continued to follow, he spun around and repeated more firmly, “That’s enough! The infant is tired now. Please run along.”

The tone worked. The crowd of officers dispersed, though there were many waves and coos sent back to Rory who gleefully ate them up.

“Man, that kid’s exactly like Lucifer,” Dan muttered so only Chloe would hear. She nodded in agreement. The precinct didn’t forbid children from visiting, and the more well-behaved ones like Trixie were smiled at fondly when they walked by, but no one’s kid inspired the same level of adoration from the officers as Rory. She was a class unto her own, though Lucifer still insisted she hadn’t inherited his angel powers. Apparently, he had tested it at length by pestering the poor sales clerk at the furniture store, and Rory had never managed to get the clerk to admit their deepest desire. Chloe assumed powers worked like wings where Rory had them, but couldn’t use them yet. The inherited aura of angel charisma, on the other hand, was passive and worked just fine.

“She should start charging for autographs at this rate,” Lucifer grumbled. He used the arm carrying Rory to shove them past Dan. Rory didn’t notice the manhandling. She barely registered being shifted to stand on the spare chair at Chloe desk. After losing her fan club, the girl had turned her full attention to a small open packet in her hand.

“Did you give her candy?” Chloe asked.

“No, that’s from one of her admirers,” Lucifer said with sarcastic emphasis. “I’m telling you the girl needs bodyguards — except she’d probably just fire them because the little succubus thrives off the attention.”

Oh, it was so tempting to tell him ‘I told you so’, but Chloe settled for sharing a knowing smirk with Dan.

“Mommy, look!” Rory’s mouth was already smeared with chocolate. She held up her bag of candy to show off, but then realized there was a third adult around. Her eyes lit up and she spun towards Dan instead. “Daddy Danny! Daddy Danny! Look, I have M&Ms!”

“Wow!”

As Dan exclaimed how awesome Rory’s M&Ms were, ten different shades of anger flashed over Lucifer’s face. This wasn’t the first time Rory had used the moniker ‘Daddy Danny,’ and it pissed off Lucifer more each time she did it.

“Daniel,” he gritted out. “His name is Daniel or Dan or Sir Douche, if you insist on being formal. His name is not Daddy Danny.”

Rory stopped her show-and-tell and blinked up at Lucifer in confusion. She pointed. “That’s Tee’s daddy.”

“Yes, Trixie’s father. Not yours.”

Rory stared for another second before grinning up at Dan. “Daddy Danny, look. They’re pink like Skye!”

Dan patted Lucifer on the shoulder, earning himself a dark glare. “Hang in there, buddy. One more DNA test, and you’ll have ironclad proof you’re her true father.”

Lucifer growled. “Get your hand off me.” He jerked his arm away while Dan laughed.

Chloe left them to their bickering and talked to Rory. “Hey, can you sit down and drink some water for me?”

Rory sat down, but asked, “Why?”

“Because we need to swab your cheek again, but now your mouth’s all covered in chocolate,” Chloe explained in a teasing tone. “We can’t swab chocolate. Aunt Ella won’t know how to test that.”

Rory giggled. “No.”

“No, we can’t do that,” Chloe said. “So, can you take a drink for me?”

Satisfied with the explanation, Rory easily drank some of Chloe’s water and allowed her to wipe the melted chocolate on her face. But she was unwilling to release the rest of her bag of M&Ms.

“You’ll get them right back after the test, I promise.”

Rory clutched the bag to her chest. “No, they’re mine.”

“She’s stubborn today,” Lucifer warned. “Even more than usual. She absolutely refused to wear her jacket earlier — and her shoes. It took me nearly twenty minutes to get them on her feet.”

Chloe tried coaxing the M&Ms from Rory again, but Lucifer continued listing off every one of Rory’s acts of defiance. She refused to use a lid on her cup, she refused to wash her hands, she smashed cracker crumbs between the piano keys. Finally, Rory shot him a sharp look and said, “Daddy! Snitches get stitches!” Dan laughed so hard he broke into a cough and had to walk away to get a drink.

Biting back her own amusement, Chloe said, “Daddy’s being a tattletale, huh?”

“Yeah.” Rory turned that grumpy look over to her. “A big tattletale.”

“How dare you—“

Chloe held up her hand to cut him off. Eyes not leaving Rory, she said, “I know, but it sounds like you gave him a lot of trouble today, too.”

Rory shrugged.

“That’s okay. Bad days happen,” Chloe said. “But can you be good for Ella now? Do you remember those cotton swabs from last week? We need to swab the inside of your cheek again.”

“Do I get a sucker?”

Chloe narrowed her eyes. “Hm, I don’t know. You already had M&Ms.”

“Pink M&Ms,” Rory corrected.

“Pink M&Ms, that’s right, because Valentine’s Day is this month,” Chloe said. “Do you think you need a sucker after the M&Ms?”

Rory nodded. “Yeah, I really need it.”

Lucifer heaved an annoyed sigh. “If you insist on negotiating with this mini demon, so be it, but I’m going to the lab.”

Alarm flashed over Rory’s face as Lucifer walked away. She twisted around in her chair and called after him, “Daddy! Daddy!” Lucifer simply waved over his shoulder without looking back. “Daddy!”

Chloe tapped her on the shoulder. Rory glanced worriedly at her. “Daddy left!”

“He’s just in the lab. Let me guard your M&Ms for you and then we can go too.”

As concerned as Rory was about Lucifer walking away from her, she was still reluctant to lose her M&Ms. It took another round of debating before she finally held the crumpled bag out to Chloe.

“Thank you, Rory. I’ll return it after we finish the test. Let’s go find Daddy and Aunt Ella now.”

“Oh no, Tee! Tee’s gone!”

“Tee’s in there too, it’s okay. Let’s go.”

Inside the lab, Ella and Trixie were absorbed in their own negotiations. Clearly, Lucifer had walked out of the fire and into the frying pan on that front. His expression was carefully blank, but his tense posture screamed he was a man being pushed past his limits.

“Mom!” Trixie immediately called out when she spotted them. “Tell her it’s okay if I get tested.”

“We said only if Ella said it was okay, too,” Chloe clarified.

This was validation enough for Trixie who turned back to Ella. “I told you so!”

Ella held up her hands. “Hey, I’ve baby-sat enough to know to never take the kid’s word on anything. Permission from the parent directly or it doesn’t count.”

“Well, parental permission granted,” Chloe said. “But that’s only if you’re fine with running an extra test.”

“Uh, yeah,” Ella said. “She gives me an extra control to know our machines are working. I’m super fine with it.”

Trixie was thrilled when she got to swab her cheek herself. She handed it over to Ella after and said, “That has DNA on it now?”

“You scraped it against your cheek right?” When Trixie nodded, Ella said, “Then yep, there’s DNA on it now. The cells from your cheek are small, but they’re there.”

“Cool!”

Bolstered by Trixie’s enthusiasm, Rory was equally happy to be swabbed this time. Still, she held out her hand as soon as Ella was done and said, “Sucker, please!”

“We get suckers?” Trixie asked.

Ella pointed them to the bag, and the kids rushed off. She marked Rory’s sample and then took Chloe’s and Lucifer’s swabs as well. As she finished writing the labels, Chloe checked in with Lucifer.

“You’ve been quiet.”

Lucifer hummed.

“Are you okay?”

“I’ve been thinking about Deacon Brett lately.”

Chloe frowned. “Who?”

“I met him last year in the mental ward. Odd chap. Not really a deacon, and he was completely convinced he could astral project himself to Jacksonville, North Carolina. He couldn’t, obviously. Even angels can’t be in two places at once, but more importantly, who wishes they were in North Carolina? I mean, he should’ve been hospitalized for that alone. But now I wonder… maybe he wasn’t ill at all. Maybe he just had a three year old at home. Did anyone ever think to ask him?”

Chloe raised her eyebrows. “Wow, that bad of a day, huh?”

Lucifer shook his head and half-heartedly mumbled some syllables that weren’t coherent enough to tell her anything except yes, something was bothering him, and no, he wasn’t willing to talk about it yet.

Then, his eyes flicked past her shoulder. He frowned. “How many are you grabbing?”

“One, girls,” Chloe called out. When she turned around, sure enough, Trixie and Rory each clutched a bulging handful of suckers and still continued to dig through the bag. “You get one sucker. Trixie, put the rest of those back.”

“We’re trying to pick which flavor,” Trixie argued.

Lucifer said, “The infant likes blue.”

Trixie frowned. “Yeah, but this blue says cotton candy, not blue raspberry.”

“Why would they do that?” Lucifer indignantly asked Chloe like she would have the answer. “Children’s brains are too simple to judge things on their own merit. They just go off of color.”

“Are you asking me to explain candy manufacturing to you?” Chloe asked.

Lucifer huffed and instructed Trixie, “Just pick the flavor you want and give her the same. She’ll like anything if you like it too.”

It worked. Both kids happily left the lab with root beer suckers. They ran off to play at Dan’s desk with strict instructions (from Lucifer) to not call him Daddy Danny. Then, Lucifer slumped down in his chair at Chloe’s desk.

“So,” Chloe said, sitting down too. “Now’s probably the wrong time to tell you I finished checking over the list you gave me.”

Lucifer held her gaze with the same walled off expression as a man facing arrest, but when he spoke it was with a false cheer. “Congratulations, Detective. You won the race.”

Chloe didn’t smile. “I didn’t find her mother.”

It was difficult to read, but there seemed to be a flicker of disappointment behind Lucifer’s wall.

“What about you?” she asked.

“I have two names left,” he said. He could’ve been postponing the search, unwilling to learn the truth, or he could’ve just been slower because he’d been watching a three year old all week.

“Do you want to check them now?” Chloe asked.

Lucifer shrugged in a non-answer, but a moment later, he followed it up with a, “Fine.”

He handed the names over to Chloe. She ran the searches in the precinct’s databases: driver’s licenses, tax returns, county birth records. She didn’t find any evidence of either person having a daughter Rory’s age.

“Maybe I’ve forgotten someone,” Lucifer said.

“Or maybe her mother kept Rory’s birth hidden,” Chloe said. “We don’t know what angel pregnancies are like. Maybe her mother realized something was different with Rory right away. She didn’t have to wait to see her wings to know.”

Lucifer frowned and stared at the computer screen without seeing it.

“We can look again. Dig a little deeper,” Chloe offered.

The wall disappeared behind a false smile. Lucifer leaned back in his chair and said, “Or I was right, and she wasn’t born at all. One of my parents made her.”

His denial had always sounded hollow to Chloe — one look at Rory and it was clear she was Lucifer’s daughter — but even Lucifer didn’t sound like he believed his own theories anymore.

“Lucifer—“

“You know, I’m starting to think my mother may have been the one to do it,” he said.

“Your mother is in another universe.”

“Yes, but DNA is her specialty,” Lucifer said. “Of course, it’d be one of the first things she experimented with once she had full control over an entire universe, and she’d have the right memories to draw from to give the girl her knowledge. It’s why the infant recognizes us and isn’t thrown off by her new surroundings.”

Chloe nodded, not in agreement but in acknowledgment. Discovering a child you weren’t aware of was always a difficult situation, but Lucifer had never even known it was possible for him to have a child. Combine that with his hatred of being told what to do, and accepting he had a daughter would be twice as tough for him. Nothing but time could change that, but Chloe still wished Lucifer would make the choice himself to move forward instead of sitting and waiting for a different answer to land in his lap.

Pierce walked up to her desk. It was the first time Chloe had seen her boss today, but he’d been aloof and isolated all week so that wasn’t strange. She assumed he wanted an update on the Pillegi case and was mentally preparing her reply when he gave her a completely different order.

“I’m transferring your case to Organized Crime. Send everything you have on Joey Pillegi to them by the end of the day.”

“Hey, stop!” Chloe bolted to her feet as Pierce began walking away. “Why are you transferring it? That’s my case.”

Pierce sighed and turned back around. “No,” he said. “It’s a mob case which means it’s not a homicide anymore. It belongs to Organized Crime.”

“Joey Pillegi was not killed by the mob,” Chloe argued. “It was a frame job.”

Lucifer stood up. “Wait, why are we talking about Joey Pillegi?”

“Because he’s taking our case!”

“Our murder victim is Joey Pillegi?” Lucifer asked. “That’s who you’ve been investigating all week?”

Chloe shut her eyes so she didn’t have to look at the smug smile crossing Pierce’s face. She didn’t blame Lucifer for not knowing the name of their victim — he had just learned he had a three year old daughter and had been busy caring for her — but her boss sure did.

“You’ve clearly made a lot of progress on this,” Pierce said. “Your partner didn’t even know the name of your victim.”

“Lucifer hasn’t been working this case. I’ve been working with Charlotte Richards from the DA’s office,” Chloe said.

Pierce crossed his arms over his chest. “Right, the Ferrante’s former attorney who would be heavily biased to protect the mob.”

“On the contrary, Charlotte’s insights have been helpful. She hasn’t shown any bias.”

“No, hold on,” Lucifer cut in. “I knew Joey Pillegi.”

“Great,” Pierce said. “I’ll be sure to let Organized Crime know.” To Chloe, he repeated, “Send the files. You’re off the case.” And then he left.

Chloe desperately wished she possessed Maze’s ‘don’t give a fuck’ attitude because throwing her desk chair at Pierce’s retreating back sure was tempting. She at least would’ve slammed her hands on her desk to release some of her anger, but her daughter sat ten feet away, staring at her. The argument had drawn her attention away from her play.

Chloe forced a smile to reassure her. “It’s okay, Trixie. It’s just work stuff.”

Trixie didn’t look convinced, but Dan stepped in and pulled her attention back. Thankfully, Rory had been too preoccupied with Dan’s hand flexer to register anything had happened.

Chloe sat down and began pulling all of the electronic files together. She couldn’t believe Pierce was transferring the case. If he had taken even just a glance at the files, he would’ve recognized Pillegi hadn’t been killed by the mob. And if it wasn’t his call, if someone above his head was pushing him to give the case to Organized Crime, then why didn’t he just say that? Why try and twist it to sound like she’d done something wrong when she hadn’t?

“I don’t know why he has it out for me,” she muttered.

Concerned, Lucifer said, “Are you sure Frankie didn’t have Joey killed?”

“Positive,” Chloe said. “Frankie was upset about the death — and no, he wasn’t just putting on a show for the interrogation. Even Charlotte was convinced. He had big plans for Joey, I guess. He’d basically adopted him as a son.”

She stopped typing and peered at Lucifer. “How did you know Joey Pillegi?”

“I introduced him to Frankie.”

“You what?”

“It was a favor,” Lucifer said indignantly. “That’s what I do, you know. Or it is when the bloody Sinnerman isn’t trying to steal my image.”

Sharply, Chloe said, “Tell me you did not rope a twenty year old kid into the mob because of the Sinnerman.”

The indignation faded to mild guilt. “Well, not directly.”

“Lucifer!” she hissed, so the kids wouldn’t overhear.

“There were rumors flying around town that I’ve lost my touch and can’t grant favors anymore,” Lucifer said. “I had to prove that was false!”

Chloe bit back her second urge to shout (the Sinnerman wasn’t even real; he was reacting to ghosts), but she couldn’t keep all of her thoughts to herself as she returned to her email. “Can’t Frankie recruit his own minions?”

“It was Joey’s favor,” Lucifer said. “Apparently, he had aims to be the next Scarface.”

She remembered all the mobster books and DVDs Joey had owned and sighed. “Of course, he did. Because twenty year olds are idiots.”

“Yes, well, it got him killed so I suppose he learned that lesson.” Guilt seeped into Lucifer’s voice. While Chloe was still pissed at him for granting the favor to begin with, she felt compelled to reassure him.

“It wasn’t the mob that got him killed,” she said. “Someone else did it and tried to frame it as a mob hit. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Good. At least, there’s that,” Lucifer said, though he didn’t sound any less disheartened.

Chloe added a note about Lucifer’s connection to Pillegi, but she doubted anyone would follow up on it. Once Organized Crime got a hold of a case, they didn’t look for other explanations. If it seemed like the mob killed someone, then they did. End of story.

Sorry, Joey, she thought as she sent the files. He would become yet another victim who never got real justice.

Chapter Text

Millennia had passed since I last walked the Earth. Being physically present down here was overwhelming for humans. Even if they didn’t believe in a god, they could still sense who I was and would become nervous. Truthfully, it was overwhelming for me as well. Earth became loud up close, deafening even, with the noise of billions of humans living and thinking and making choices that constantly altered the future.

Or at least, I remembered Earth being deafeningly loud. But as I appeared in the LAPD precinct my son worked for, the humming of human lives remained at the same comfortable volume I heard in Heaven. Strange. Had I misremembered what being on Earth was like? That shouldn’t be possible, but like I said, it had been thousands of years, and, well… lately, my memory had been a bit faulty. Perhaps, I had misremembered, then.

With no need to acclimate, I tuned into the workplace around me. The typical thoughts and visions of a Tuesday afternoon filtered through my awareness faster than a human could process. Was it too late for a fourth cup of coffee? Could this report be left until tomorrow? What should I order for dinner? Would Alexis make the track team this year? Would Ellis even be at his desk if I walked up there? But he was so slow to answer his emails.

What’s inside?

I closed my eyes to focus on the little mind who thought this. She was already on the move, slipping between desks, unnoticed by the adults around her. Her tiny legs moved quickly, and she didn’t glance back. She wasn’t supposed to leave her mother’s desk, and she naively believed if she didn’t look back, then she couldn’t be caught. The girl had no idea she wasn’t supposed to be in this precinct at all. Not at this time.

That was okay. Neither was I.

There was an unmarked door across from the bathrooms. No matter how many times she’d walked by it, the door remained closed. It was intriguing. Closed doors were sneaky, and there were few things this girl loved more than sneaking.

She reached the door and stretched her little hand up to twist the doorknob I had unlocked already. It turned easily, and the door swung open. Inside, the small closet loomed large to her. Through her eyes, the shelves of cleaning supplies turned into exciting towers, and the bright, blue liquid suggested they tasted of blue raspberry. An empty mop bucket stood in front of the shelves. It gave the girl an idea. If she could turn it over, then she could use it to climb up and reach the bottles.

I opened my eyes to see with my own gaze. The child, still focused on the mop bucket, wore a pleased-with-herself grin that dated all the way back to when her father had created the very first star and shone just as brightly.

“I wouldn’t drink that if I were you.”

The grin rounded into an ‘o’. The girl’s eyes landed on my shoes first, and then, slowly, she titled her head back. She winced when she saw I was an adult — or at least, I appeared as a human adult to her. She didn’t notice that I took up more room than the closet shelves should allow.

“Hello, Rory,” I said.

“Uh oh.”

Profound irritation flashed through her mind in anticipation of the scolding she believed was coming. I, however, became distracted by her braids. Her thick, black hair — long, reaching to the bottom of her shoulder blades already — had been divided in half and plaited into simple braids. That, in itself, wasn’t special. The braids were similar to many that her sister had sported over the years. No, these were special because Rory hadn’t been able to sit still this morning. As a result, it had taken two sessions — and two people — to finish her hair. Her mother had braided one pigtail. Her father had braided the other. Secretly, Rory loved having two parents to do her hair. Hours after the fact, she was still giddy about it.

I had no idea why this was the first time she had two parents to braid her hair.

Stooping down to Rory’s height, I said, “You’ve travelled quite a ways to get here, haven’t you? Farther than you even realize yet.”

Rory relaxed at my gentle tone. Since she wasn’t being scolded for running off, she turned curious and searched my face, trying to understand who I was. For once, I didn’t know what she would find. She was unique in her design. No other half-angel, half human child had ever existed.

Her eyes narrowed, and then — a flash of recognition. I waited patiently for the memory she sought to appear.

It was an image. A photograph framed and sitting on a shelf… somewhere. The details were hazy. I had to wait for Rory to make the connections for me, though I should have been able to see them on my own. The girl being part angel didn’t block her thoughts from me. The trouble was the memory came from a future I couldn’t see.

There was a lot I couldn’t see these days.

“You’re in Charlie’s picture,” Rory said as she pointed to my face.

Now, some details reached me. Charlie. A little boy who didn’t yet exist but who would be born later this year. I hadn’t known who he was, but suddenly I could see the hospital. I could see the joy and anxiety in his parents as they held him for the first time. This was Amenadiel’s son. There was another half-angel, half-human child. I would have a grandson soon, but until Rory had said his name, I hadn’t been able to see him.

I couldn’t see Charlie’s future either. I looked. I followed every thread of Amenadiel’s and Linda’s lives, and I couldn’t even see my grandson’s first birthday.

I hadn’t seen Rory arriving either, not until she was already here. Was she why the future was hidden? Time travel created ripples through people’s lives. It interfered with the uncertainties and possibilities that were so crucial for free will to operate. The future must remain malleable, but time travel risked turning choice into destiny.

It could also swing too far the other way and make things too malleable. A quirk of the universe overcompensating to avoid a fixed future. If someone travelled backwards through time, they could accidentally erase themselves and everything they loved. There was a reason none of my children had the power to travel through time. I never intended time travel to exist in this world, but — much like how children never turned out how their parents expected — the way I’d intended the world to work and the way it actually worked were two very different things by now.

“You’re Grandpa!” Rory proclaimed. Her investigative expression brightened into another pleased grin. She spun around as if to show off her discovery to an audience, and now she echoed a different three year old eagerly running to tell her father all about the amazing toys she’d played with on set that day, blissfully unconcerned about the twelve takes that had been required to get her to look at the camera when she delivered her line.

I blinked. Chloe searched by the vending machines for Rory, worried but not yet frantic. Already, Rory running off was a common occurrence. She was such a delightfully curious little thing.

“Yes, I am.” I smiled at my unexpected granddaughter. “And your name is Rory. I’m so glad to meet you.”

“Thank you!” Rory replied with a grin and tilt of her head.

I laughed. “It is truly a pleasure, Rory. Now tell me, why aren’t you in that picture with Charlie and me?”

I knew the mundane answer. Charlie was only eight months old in that photograph. Rory hadn’t yet been born. What I really wanted to know was why Rory’s future — why all futures past that photograph — were hidden from me. The block had been growing for years. The future I could see continued to shrink. I was down to just two years now. Two more years and then the world went black.

It frightened me. I had never been frightened before. Angry, disappointed, heartbroken — jealous, even. But I’d never been frightened. Fear was rooted in the unknown, after all, and I had always known everything.

Not anymore.

Rory only shrugged in response, so I asked, “Did your Uncle Amenadiel tell you about me?”

It was a guess based on what Rory had mentioned so far during her time in the present. Her father wasn’t around for her, but Amenadiel was and he displayed a picture of me for his son. As Lucifer and Chloe would say, it’s where the evidence pointed. The thought made me smile. Lucifer would hate me stepping on his toes and taking on a detective’s role.

Sure enough, Rory confirmed my theory with a nod. “He said you were God, but then you got tired.”

My smile faded. I couldn’t see the conversation, couldn’t hear what her three years of life might have missed. Once again, the only memories I could see in her mind were the ones that had happened here in 2018 and that photograph of me with her cousin Charlie. Rory’s birth, her first step, even the moment just before she landed in the present — all of it was locked away in that impenetrable black.

Because I wasn’t there. A startling observation, and yet startlingly true. That was why I could only see the photograph where I hold Charlie: I wasn’t around to witness anything else.

But God was always present. I witnessed all there was in this world, at every moment of existence — but only for another two years, it seemed. Two more years and then… I disappeared.

My fear deepened, but still, I smiled for Rory. “Maybe I did get tired. I’m sorry we didn’t get to meet until now.”

“Okay. Hey, guess what, I found Daddy, too!” my miraculous granddaughter excitedly said. “He’s out there.” She pointed past the closet door where Lucifer was currently checking the lab and asking Ella if she’d seen a tiny gremlin dart inside.

“And Tee’s daddy,” Rory continued. “I found Tee’s daddy, too! I saved him when I flew up to Heaven all by myself.”

Hmm…. Daniel Espinoza. I wasn’t supposed to have favorites and least favorites amongst humans. I was God. It wasn’t fair. But then my wife took a special interest in Mr. Daniel Espinoza… and well, he was certainly not amongst my favorites.

Still, it worried me that I couldn’t see his future, either. Rory’s broken explanations suggested he had died, that he also wasn’t there for her future, and I could certainly see the possibilities that might lead to such an event. Nothing was truly random, as my son Uriel could’ve explained. One choice fed into another, fed into five more, until a specific result seemed inevitable. The string of choices pointing towards Dan’s death would kick off soon. In fact, the first domino would fall in just a few weeks with Charlotte Richards….

But no ending was actually inevitable, and Rory’s presence brought even more uncertainty into play. Tortured souls didn’t often last long on Earth, but given the right choices, the right changes, one death didn’t have to lead to a second.

“I hope you did save him,” I said, genuinely. Too many people my son and granddaughter loved would be hurt by Dan’s death. “And I hope you never lose your own father.”

“Oh no, he’s out there.” Rory pointed again in the direction of the officer desks. “He’s helping Mommy work right now, so I’m taking my break. Do you want to come play with me?”

Wistfully, I said, “I wish I could, Rory, but I’m afraid when you leave this closet, you and I won’t see each other again.”

Rory’s eyes widened in alarm. “But you’re Grandpa!”

The new title sounded sweeter each time she said it. Nothing had delighted me like this in a long, long time. I might have arranged for Chloe to be born and to attract my son’s attention, but I never anticipated it would lead to me becoming a grandfather.

“Yes, I am,” I said. “I am your grandpa. Thank you so much for this chance to meet you, Rory. This never would’ve happened without you.”

“I know.” Rory grinned. Then, she corrected, “Oh! I mean, thank you!”

Humans had such a strong influence on each other: every relationship, however fleeting, leaving its mark on a person. In only three short years, Rory had been influenced by so many. How I wished I could stay and see her grow up.

“I believe your parents are looking for you,” I reluctantly said. “And your Aunt Linda has arrived to talk to you, so you had better go back now.”

Rory wore her best pouting face in protest. I winked and tapped her on the chin.

“My beautiful granddaughter.” My heart burst with more love than I felt for the world. I had favorites now. No one could top my own grandchildren. “I may not be able to see your future, but I still know you’re going to grow up to be an incredibly remarkable person. Do you know how I know that?” I leaned forward, and Rory eagerly leaned in for a secret. “Because you already are. And I am so proud of you and everything you’ve already accomplished.”

Her father’s grin emerged again. “Yeah, I’m really smart.”

“Yes, you are,” I agreed. “Now, go out there and answer your Aunt Linda’s questions so everyone else can know how smart you are too.”

“Okay.”

Rory surprised me again by giving me a hug. Gently, I hugged her back.

“Goodbye, Rory,” I whispered.

“Bye, Grandpa. I love you.”

I pulled back to look her in the eyes, fighting tears back in my own. “I love you, too.”

Just as we finished our talk, Lucifer’s voice carried down the hall. “Infant, you have until three!”

“Uh oh!” Rory spun towards the door. When she glanced back over her shoulder, I had disappeared.

I watched my son discover Rory’s hiding place. He scooped up his daughter with a firm scolding about causing metaphorical heart attacks that could have turned real with Chloe nearby. But it wasn’t his daughter’s safety he was most worried about. He feared the conversation that was about to happen. This mysterious child had brought with her a sea of questions, and Lucifer feared learning the answers. I knew he would be much more frightened once he did know the truth of Rory’s origins.

I had no idea why I would miss Rory’s future. But until she returned to her own time, I was determined to observe every moment of the present that I could.

For the first time in her life, Linda wished she had specialized in child psychology — or at least, that she had access to the office of a child psychologist. The sleek and modern design of the police precinct felt sterile compared to an office with colorful toys and beanbag chairs. Interviewing Rory here would make her job more difficult. If children were going to answer probing questions without feeling attacked, then they needed to feel comfortable. A coloring book and cookies in the precinct’s conference room didn’t really cut it.

Though, Rory didn’t seem to mind the clinical set up. She seemed downright excited, in fact, as Dan held one of the wheeled chairs in place so she could clamber into it. Once settled, she pushed the coloring book aside to snatch a cookie from the tray. Her eyes eagerly bounced between Linda and Dan as she crunched down on it.

“Are we playing a game?” she asked, crumbs falling into her lap.

“Yeah, kind of,” Dan said. He glanced over at Linda, expecting her to take the lead. Panic flashed through Linda’s mind and turned her thoughts to static.

Oh, this was so outside her wheelhouse.

She quickly recovered (thank god) and clung tightly to every tip her colleague had given her about questioning children. “Yes, this is a bit like a game, Rory. It’s a kind of game where we share some facts about ourselves.”

“Do we tell secrets?” Rory asked, eyes lighting up.

“Uh, no,” Linda said. “No, this isn’t a game like Truth or Dare.” (Did toddlers even know what Truth or Dare was?) “This game is just where we,” she gestured to Dan, “ask you some basic questions about your life and you tell us the answer, okay?”

Rory nodded, but that could’ve been a trained response to the word ‘okay’ and not a real sign of understanding. How was Linda supposed to know the difference? Why didn’t she think to ask her colleague?

Dan added, “A game also means no one’s in trouble, so you can say whatever you want to us.”

“Yes, thank you. That’s a good point,” Linda said. “You can’t get in trouble for anything you say here, Rory. This is a safe space.”

The girl grinned around her cookie. “Secrets.”

“Uh, not quite,” Dan said.

But Rory nodded and said, “I’m really good with secrets.”

“It’s fine,” Linda replied to Dan’s questioning glance. They could pause and course correct later if they needed to. “Let’s just go ahead and get started.”

Rory sat up straighter in her chair.

“Here’s our first question,” Linda said. “What is your first and last name?”

“Rory Morningstar,” the girl said promptly.

“Good job,” Dan said, taking the next question. “Now, how old are you?”

Rory rose up on her knees and held up three messy fingers. “I’m three!”

“Very good!” Linda skipped asking her mother’s name for now. The girl had been consistent in calling Chloe her mother, so it might be easier to get her actual mother’s name if they could get Rory to remember what her life was like before arriving in LA. Instead, she asked, “Where do you live, Rory?”

Her colleague had told her to expect anything from the name of a city to a description of who the girl lived with rather than where — but Rory calmly broke into a song and recited Chloe’s address.

“Wow,” Dan said. “Who taught you that song?”

“Mommy did.”

He nodded. “Well, you did a really good job on it.”

“Thank you!” Rory gave a smug smile. “I’m very smart.”

“I’ll say. Trixie was five before she could get our address right,” Dan muttered to Linda. Then, he frowned, “That was a similar tune too.”

“Similar to the tune you taught to Trixie?” Linda asked.

“Yeah,” Dan said. “I mean, it’s not exactly the same and it’s a different address, but it’s kind of close.” He shook his head. “Weird.”

She privately agreed. Was the tune a coincidence? A result of Rory’s mother researching Lucifer’s life before sending the girl here? Or was Lucifer right and God had created the girl with false memories?

Making note of the similarity, Linda moved on to other questions. What did Rory usually see when she looked out her bedroom window? Where did her mother take her for fun? Did she have a favorite park?

The answers were fairly generic. She saw cars. Her mother took her to the beach. The park with the really big slide. When they dug for more specifics, they learned the beach was at the ocean, not a lake or smaller body of water. And further descriptions of the park reminded Dan of the one near Chloe’s place.

“Has Chloe taken you there?” he asked.

“Oh, all the time,” Rory said, matter-of-factly.

“Have you gone in the last few days?” Dan asked. “Or last week, maybe?”

Rory replied, “No, we’ve been at Daddy’s.” She stood up on her knees again and pointed at the tray of cookies. “Aunt Linda, can I please have another cookie?”

Linda smiled at her polite tone. “Yes, you may.”

“May! Uh oh!” Rory repeated like she was correcting herself. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh… that’s okay.” Linda didn’t expect a three year old to have perfect grammar and quite frankly was surprised Rory even recognized there was a difference between ‘can’ and ‘may’. “Go on, you can take another cookie. It’s okay.”

Rory grinned and settled back in her seat with her prize. With her busy munching on another cookie, Dan took the opportunity to speak with Linda.

“Everything sounds like she’s from LA, so far.”

“I know, but Chloe said she had the seasons mixed up.” Linda resumed questioning the girl, “Hey Rory, do you know how to tell if it’s winter outside?”

“It’s Christmas,” Rory said.

“When you see Christmas decorations?” Linda asked. The girl nodded. “What about the trees, do they have leaves on them?”

Rory nodded again. Linda wondered if she had rephrased the question as ‘are the leaves gone’, the girl still would’ve nodded.

“What about snow on the ground?” Dan asked. “Does it snow during the winter where you live?”

Rory gave him the most incredulous look Linda had ever seen on a three year old. “Daddy Danny, you’re silly. It doesn’t snow here.”

Dan turned back to Linda. “Still sounds like an LA native.”

Had Lucifer and Chloe checked LA when they searched for Rory’s mother? Or had they assumed she’d came from out of state and only focused their search there? Linda recorded this observation too.

“Let’s mix it up a little,” she said. “Do you know when your birthday is, Rory?”

“I’m three!” Rory repeated with her fingers raised.

“Yes, you are. Now, do you know when your birthday is?” Linda asked again.

For the first time, Rory looked uncertain. “My birthday?”

“Yes, do you know the month and day that you were born? For example, I was born on May 8.”

“Um….” Rory pressed the cookie back into her mouth and slumped down in her seat.

“It’s okay,” Linda said. The girl could recite Chloe’s address with ease, but she didn’t know her birthday. Was that normal for three year olds? Had her mother just not bothered to teach Rory her birthday?

Or maybe Linda just wasn’t asking for it right.

“Maybe you know it better as numbers. My birthday is five-eight. When’s your birthday?”

A spark ignited in Rory’s eyes, and she popped back up to chant, “Char-lie was born on one-two-six!”

“What?” Dan asked.

Linda was confused too, but the response was so quick and rote that it sounded like something Rory had memorized. “Do some people call you Charlie?”

“No, that’s Charlie’s birthday.” The girl leaned over the table. “Did I win?”

“Hey, Rory,” Dan asked. “Who’s Charlie?”

The girl shot him another incredulous look. Then, she pointed at Linda. “Charlie.”

“No, her name is Linda,” Dan corrected.

“Lucifer thought she was trying to say Charlotte Richards before,” Linda said.

Dan shook his head. “That’s not Charlotte’s birthday.” He turned back to Rory. “Who’s Charlie? Have I ever met them?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Rory said. “He’s bigger, but um, he can’t fly yet. So, only I saved you.”

Despite knowing angels were real and that Rory likely meant fly with literal wings and not fly on a plane, Linda was still just as clueless as Dan about what this response could mean. She wrote it down in case Lucifer could provide some insight later.

“Okay, so Charlie is bigger than you. Is he as big as Dan? Or is he closer to your size?” she asked.

“Oh, like me, like me,” Rory readily answered. Though, interestingly she turned back to Dan like he had been the one to ask.

“So, Charlie’s a kid that’s bigger than you,” Dan said.

Rory pinched her finger and thumb together and held it out towards him. “Only a little bit.”

“Only a little bit bigger, okay.” Dan nodded. “Where does Charlie live?”

“With Aunt Linda.” Rory pointed at her again. Linda frowned.

“No, I don’t think so,” Dan started to say, but Linda stopped him. There year olds didn’t lie. Her colleague said they could tell stories and play make-believe, but they didn’t purposely deceive — which meant there was a grain of truth somewhere in Rory’s answer.

“Does that mean Charlie is your cousin?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah.” Rory nodded and explained to Dan, “We’re cousins because Uncle Meni is actually Charlie’s daddy, but Tee and I aren’t cousins even though you’re her daddy. We’re sisters.”

“Uh huh.” Dan nodded, utterly baffled once again. “Who’s Uncle Mini?”

“Amenadiel, I think,” Linda said. There was an awful lot of transposing going on in Rory’s responses. She knew an adult brain could block out events and people and sometimes even write over them with other faces and experiences when something traumatic happened. Often those blocked events happened in childhood. What she didn’t know was if a three year old was capable of transposing the names of the people around her over the memory of family members that were lost. Could the girl have already blocked the traumatic event of being abandoned or did that kind of response take time to build? Linda made more notes to follow up with her colleague on. Then, she asked, “Do you have any other cousins, Rory?”

“No,” Rory said. “Tee does.”

“That’s… yeah, that’s true,” Dan said. “Has Trixie told you about her cousins?”

Rory didn’t answer the question directly. Instead, she turned to him with a matter-of-fact expression and said, “They’re bigger.”

“Yeah, I guess most of them are bigger than you.”

“You’re doing really good, Rory,” Linda assured the girl before moving to a new question. “Do you have any other uncles or aunts? Maybe on your mother’s side?”

Rory frowned. For a second, Linda worried the additional phrase ‘on your mother’s side’ was too confusing for the young girl, but then Rory’s eyes lit up and she said, “Oh, Auntie Maze!”

“Auntie Maze, I see.” Externally, Linda stayed neutral, but internally, she smiled. ‘Auntie Maze’ sounded ridiculously adorable. Maze would probably kill her for thinking that, but it was true. She wondered if Rory had dared called the demon ‘Auntie Maze’ directly yet.

Dan, however, allowed his skepticism to slip through. “And that’s on your mother’s side?”

Rory scowled. “It’s Auntie Maze!”

“We believe you, Rory,” Linda hurriedly said. She shot Dan a warning glance. “Maze is your aunt.”

“Yes, she is.” Then, Rory dropped the indignation and leaned back over the conference table to ask Linda, “Am I still winning?”

“Yes, you are,” Linda said. “We just have a few more questions for you. Is that okay?”

Rory thought it over. “Maaaaybe….” Her eyes dropped to the tray of cookies.

Dan chuckled. “Go ahead. You can have another cookie.”

Pleased, Rory plucked another treat off the tray and leaned back in her seat again. “I’m definitely winning now.”

Chloe sat at her desk while Rory was interviewed. She twisted back in her seat to spy into the conference room now and again, but she tried not to stare. Lucifer, however, clearly didn’t care if anyone could see his nervousness. He paced impatiently back and forth just outside the conference room door, stopping every so often to glare inside. Thankfully, Linda had positioned Rory so that her back was to the windowed wall to avoid exactly those kind of distractions.

After Lucifer’s tenth trek across the precinct, Chloe spoke up. “Rory’s safe in there. They’re not pressuring her for answers. They’re just gathering some basic information about her home life.”

Lucifer spun on his heel. “Then, why are we stuck out here? Why can’t we be in there with her?”

“Because we’re too emotionally involved,” Chloe explained. “We might react to something she says, and Rory would take that as a sign to clam up or change her story. The interviewers have to be neutral.”

Frustrated, Lucifer flung his hand towards the conference room. “She calls him ‘Daddy Danny’ still. You call that neutral?”

“Dan is neutral, yes,” Chloe said. “He’s also someone we both trust. That’s why he’s the supervising officer.”

“I trust you more, and we know you’re not related to the girl,” Lucifer said. “Why can’t you supervise?”

Chloe shook her head. “I have spent nearly two weeks listening to her call me ‘mommy’. I am definitely not neutral anymore.”

In truth, she was nervous about the interview, too. Rory could be revealing anything in there. The interview was necessary. They needed whatever information Linda and Dan could get from her since their search for the girl’s mother had turned up nothing — but learning the truth wouldn’t be a relief anymore. Instead, Chloe dreaded the moment they finally knew who Rory’s mother was and what had happened to send the girl to Lucifer. She might be an amazing mother who had done everything right or she might be a terrible mother who would’ve abandoned Rory even if she wasn’t an angel or she could be anything in between. Chloe didn’t even know which she preferred: a villain or a saint.

Actually, she did know. She preferred a mother who had shown up to the precinct with Rory, but either through choice or circumstance, that hadn’t happened.

The interview lasted another ten minutes before the adults stood up. Linda held the door open for Rory, and the girl, wearing a huge grin on her face, sprinted straight over to Chloe.

“Mommy, I won!”

“You won?” She caught Rory when she jumped and settled the girl on her lap. “What did you win?”

Rory held up a chocolate chip cookie already half-eaten. “Cookies!”

“You won cookies?”

“I won three!” She held up three fingers with her empty hand. “One for every year I am.”

While Chloe congratulated her, Lucifer rounded on Linda. “Well, what did you learn?”

“She is very smart and well spoken,” Linda said. “There’s no sign she’s been neglected.”

“Yes, we know that much already. Who’s her mother?” Lucifer snapped.

Linda shook her head. “I’m sorry, we weren’t able to get her mother’s name.”

“She just kept saying Chloe when we asked,” Dan said.

That was what she said every time she and Lucifer asked too, so Chloe wasn’t surprised. “Did you get names of other relatives at least?”

“A couple, maybe. Do you know who Aunt Eve might be?”

They all looked at Lucifer who impatiently shrugged. “She’s said the name before, but I have no idea who she could mean.”

“Are you sure?” Dan asked.

“Yes, I’m sure. The only Eve I know is completely irrelevant.”

Chloe’s instinct was to press him again because they didn’t know who was and wasn’t relevant when it came to Rory — and then it hit her which Eve he must know. A wave of existentialism washed over her. Great. Adam and Eve were real too. Just add it to the pile of what-the-fuckness that had become her life lately.

Linda also did a double take, like she, too, was realizing the biblical Eve must be a real person. That was comforting. She might have known angels were real first, but that didn’t mean she knew everything already. They were both still discovering fun facts about how the universe really operated.

“Okay…” With a shake of her head, Linda resumed, “Well, the only other names she gave were Maze and Amenadiel.”

“And Charlie,” Dan said. “It sounds like he’s her older cousin, but she didn’t tell us his parents.”

Chloe tapped Rory on the hand to pull her attention away from the cookie. “Hey, Rory. Do you know what Charlie’s mommy’s or daddy’s name is?”

“Aunt Linda and Uncle Meni,” Rory promptly answered. She thrust out her hand, palm up. “Did I win again?”

“Hm,” Lucifer said. “She seems to be accusing everyone of parenthood.”

“Well, that’s why we think he’s her cousin,” Linda said. “She was very consistent with all of her answers. She didn’t contradict anything she’s already told you guys, but she might be transposing our names over people she knew before.”

“Transposing, like saying you and Amenadiel are Charlie’s parents?” Chloe asked.

“It’s just a guess,” Linda said. “I’m not an expert on young children, so I’m going to follow up with my colleague to get her thoughts. Rory might not know who Charlie’s parents are at all, and she only gave our names because she wanted to answer the question.”

Dan nodded. “She was really concerned about winning.”

“Yes, she’s quite competitive,” Lucifer said with a side-eye down to the girl in question. Rory responded with a cheeky ‘thank you!’ but it was so muffled by her cookie that only Chloe heard it.

Dan snapped his fingers. “Oh, but she did give us a birthday for Charlie. If we can get a last name on him, maybe you could track his real parents down.”

“She knew her cousin’s birthday?” Chloe asked.

“Yeah, she had a chant for it. Didn’t you, Rory?” Linda said. “Let’s see it went: Char-lie was born on one-two-six.”

She tapped her hands together with the beat. The rhythm triggered Rory to swallow her cookie and repeat, “Charlie was born on one-two-six!”

“Is that January or December?” Chloe asked.

Linda replied, “I’m not sure. It seemed to confuse her when we asked.”

“No, it’s December,” Dan said. He held up his hands side-by-side to show a one and a two. “She put her hands together like this. That means twelve. It’s how Trixie learned her tens, too.”

“Then, tentatively, it’s December,” Linda said.

“Are you sure that’s not her birthday?” Lucifer asked. “Maybe she was called Charlie previously.”

Dan shook his head. “Nope. We asked that too.”

“But why would she know her cousin’s birthday and not hers?”

“If they were regular playmates,” Linda answered. “Maybe Charlie sang it to himself a lot. Children pick up on songs and chants quickly. Rory was taught her address with a song.”

“Yeah, my address,” Chloe said. “And my phone number.”

Linda grimaced. “Yeah, I can’t explain that one.”

“I can,” Chloe said. “Her mother planned ahead. She knew she would send Rory here.”

Planning ahead didn’t point to motivation, but it still didn’t sit right with Chloe. Knowing that the girl’s mother had decided to abandon her ahead of time, that she’d put so much thought into it and yet didn’t care enough to provide an explanation for why she couldn’t take care of Rory anymore — it infuriated Chloe. Good intentions or not, it was selfish and unfair to leave Rory in the lurch like this.

Linda held up her hands in an apology. “That’s all we learned for sure. Like I said, I have a few notes I want to follow up with my colleague about, but I didn’t see any warning signs that you need to worry about.”

“She’s a great kid,” Dan agreed. “If you can’t find her mom, maybe you should just focus on that.”

Usually Rory begged for a snack and then ran around for an hour after her bath. Tonight, however, she crashed on the couch before the bathroom floor could even be mopped up.

“Must be all the excitement,” Chloe murmured. She ran her hand through Rory’s still damp hair. “It’s not everyday you win three whole cookies just for answering a few questions.”

“I found it all underwhelming actually,” Lucifer said, “and completely pointless. It didn’t give us a single lead.”

“It gave us some answers. We confirmed her cousin’s name and birthday,” Chloe said. “And we’re pretty sure she’s grown up around LA, after all. She just really hates her jacket.”

Lucifer dryly replied, “Yes, critical information that I didn’t learn from any of her dozens of tantrums over wearing the bloody thing.”

Chloe smiled and pulled out some hair that had become trapped beneath the collar of Rory’s pajamas. “She wants things her way, and she wants a full explanation when it can’t be that way. Vague answers don’t work for her.”

“You can call it what it is: stubborn.”

“Three year olds are stubborn. Rory is something else.”

Something perfect. Oh, Chloe knew the girl was challenging. She was far more temperamental than Trixie. Where Trixie bottled up her emotions until they spilled over, Rory unleashed her emotions on the world the moment she felt them. Yes, the girl was only three, but Chloe had a sneaking suspicion that was something she wouldn’t outgrow. Rory would always wear her heart on her sleeve.

Lucifer sighed. “I suppose I should take her to bed. She can’t sleep on the couch all night.”

“Are you sure? I can take her.”

“No, I’ve got her.”

Lucifer smoothly lifted the girl off the couch. Rory didn’t wake enough to whine until she was already settled into his arms. She then murmured something as they walked off, and Lucifer gently replied, “It’s alright, I’m taking you to your bear. She’s already waiting for you in your room.”

Chloe tried not to let her heart flip too much at the sight of Lucifer taking his daughter to bed. It was something she never in a million years thought she’d see — but it sure looked good on him.

“Is Lucifer tucking Rory in by himself?”

It took a moment of searching to find the source of the voice. On the gym mats strewn behind the couch, Trixie laid fully sprawled out on her stomach. Her backpack rested beside her with today’s homework spilling out of it, but it was a deck of playing cards that held her attention. She seemed to be in the middle of a game of war with herself.

“You know there’s like ten desks in this penthouse for you to work at,” Chloe said.

Trixie shrugged. “I know.”

Chloe chuckled and squatted down beside her. “Yes, Lucifer is putting Rory to bed. Why?”

“Just checking.”

Chloe waited to see if her daughter had anything more to add, but lingering was apparently the last thing she wanted because Trixie prompted, “You can turn around now.”

“Excuse me?”

“This is top secret,” Trixie said.

“Your card game?”

“Mom!”

“Okay, okay.” Chloe stood back up and turned around so she was facing away from her daughter. She heard a rustle of paper and peeked over her shoulder to see Trixie writing something in a notebook. “What is that?”

“I said it was top secret!”

“Uh huh.” Chloe returned to her daughter’s side. “Well, if it’s about Rory, it probably shouldn’t be top secret.”

“It’s more about Lucifer,” Trixie explained. “But only dads can see this list, so look somewhere else, please.”

She smirked. “Ah, I see. It’s that Dad List you’ve been talking about. So, putting Rory to bed by himself is on the list?”

Trixie narrowed her eyes. “You only know that because I asked about it.”

“Yeah, and I’m also a detective,” Chloe said. She stuck out her tongue which made her daughter laugh.

“Okay, but you still can’t see the rest of the list yet. Lucifer gets a progress report next week, and you can see it then.”

She chuckled. There were progress reports now. Trixie was always so thorough in her games. She never did something halfway.

“Okay, I will wait for the progress report. Now, can I get a progress report on your homework?”

“Oh, I finished it ages ago.” Trixie dismissed her with a hand wave.

“Good,” Chloe said. “Can I see it?”

Trixie gave her a tired look. “How long do we have to do this?”

“When you have gone a whole month without forgetting an assignment,” Chloe reminded her.

“But I didn’t forget to do my English homework,” Trixie said. “I just forgot to put my book back in my bag to take it to school.”

“And you haven’t forgotten your homework since which is great, but let’s just double check tonight.”

Begrudgingly, Trixie pulled out each of her assignments to prove they were complete. Once Chloe was satisfied, she had Trixie pack up her backpack and set it near the elevator for the morning. The game of war had been ruined by Trixie’s textbooks, so Chloe picked up the deck and straightened out the cards.

“Hey, do you want to play a card game before you go to bed?” she asked.

“No, that’s okay,” Trixie said. Then, Lucifer returned to the living room, and she grinned. “Oh, Lucifer! Do you want to play B.S. with me?”

She dashed over and grabbed the playing cards from Chloe with a quick thanks before dashing away again without another word. Chloe shook her head. The other parents at Trixie’s school, the ones with older kids at home, had warned that Trixie would start ignoring her as she approached her teen years, but Chloe had naively hoped that would kick in at thirteen and not the second she hit double digits.

Bouncing next to Lucifer, Trixie said, “Fair warning: you should only agree if you’re willing to get your butt kicked. I’m really good at this game.”

“Why, do you cheat at it too?” Lucifer asked.

“Only because that’s the whole point of the game,” Trixie said.

“You know B.S. works better when there are more than two players,” Chloe reminded her.

Her daughter held up her hand to signal her to stop. “Sorry, this is a personal challenge. You’d just be a distraction.”

Chloe snorted. “Thanks, monkey. I love you too.”

“Play with your mother,” Lucifer said. “I still have to pick up after the infant.”

Trixie’s face fell with painful disappointment, so Chloe volunteered, “I can clean up.” She pulled Lucifer aside and quietly said, “She really wants to beat you at cards.”

“What’s so special about B.S?” Lucifer complained. “It’s just the PG version of Bullshit, isn’t it?”

“Yes, the game where you have to lie to win.”

Lucifer became offended. “She thinks I can’t win because it involves lying?”

“I am a better liar than you,” Trixie said from behind them.

Lucifer turned around. “Is that what you think?”

Trixie frowned. “No, I know I’m better.”

A determined light flipped on in Lucifer’s eyes, and Chloe knew her daughter would regret this challenge.

“Alright, Urchin. You’re on.”

“Yes! I’ll deal!”

Chloe’s suspicions were right. The game did not go in Trixie’s favor. She was, in fact, thoroughly trounced as Lucifer easily shed all of his cards in one of the shortest games of B.S. Chloe had ever seen. Trixie had made one fatal mistake when deciding to challenge him: Lucifer might not lie, but he didn’t necessarily tell the truth either. He was a master at ordering his words in such a way that what a person assumed he said (“Two sixes.”) was not what he actually said (“That gives me sixes, yes? I play two.”)

“That’s not fair,” Trixie whined when she realized this.

“I’m just better at this game than you thought,” Lucifer said. “Nothing unfair about that.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Rematch.”

“It’s nine o’clock.”

“Mommy!” Trixie twisted in her seat to call over to Chloe. “Please, can I stay up a little later? I have to do a rematch.”

“Twenty more minutes,” Chloe allowed with a smirk.

“Yes!” Trixie spun back to Lucifer. “This time, I’m going to win.”

She did not. But the game was much closer than the first one.

Chloe couldn’t stop herself from teasing her as she tucked her daughter into bed. “You know, it’s not very smart to brag about how good you are at lying when your mom is standing right there.”

Trixie said, “I only said I’m better than Lucifer because I lie more than him.”

“Wow!” Chloe feigned shock. “Just right to my face, huh? Not even going to pretend to hide it.”

“No, I don’t mean it like that!” Trixie giggled. “Everyone lies more than Lucifer because he doesn’t lie at all.”

“No, that’s true. Lucifer doesn’t lie.”

“Right, so I wasn’t bragging. I was just stating a fact,” Trixie said.

Chuckling, Chloe said, “Okay, as long as you’re only lying for games and not for anything important.”

“I’m not.” Trixie smiled in that scary way where she looked both four and fourteen, the past and future superimposing themselves on her present day self. Chloe both loved and hated those moments when she could physically see her daughter growing up. Time moved too fast as a parent.

“Good night, Trix.” Chloe leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I love you. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“Hey, Mommy?” Trixie stopped her before she could turn out the lights. “I have a question.”

Her serious tone pulled Chloe back to the bed. “What is it?”

Trixie hesitated, so Chloe squeezed her hand in reassurance.

“Hey, it’s okay. You can ask me anything.”

“Well,” Trixie began, “I was thinking about Lucifer. Things seem to be going really well here.”

“Do you mean with us staying here to help with Rory?” Chloe asked.

“Yeah, I mean with Rory,” Trixie said. “Lucifer’s doing a really good job with her. He’s finished like seventy-five percent of the Dad List already.”

“Is that a spoiler for next week’s progress report?” Chloe teased, but Trixie didn’t smile.

“He won’t get a hundred percent for a while,” her daughter continued. “Rory’s too little for some of the things on the list, but… what happens if Lucifer gets tired of being a dad before then? That happens sometimes. Families don’t always work out.”

Chloe’s stomach twisted in a way she hadn’t felt since she and Dan first separated. She knew Trixie was thinking about how Rory had already been abandoned once and that this wasn’t solely the divorce coming back up. She’d tried not to tell Trixie too much about Rory’s situation (an easy feat since they didn’t know many specifics about Rory yet), but it was nearly impossible to keep the wool over Trixie’s eyes. Always had been. Her girl had an uncanny knack for seeing through white lies and stories and recognizing the world for how it actually worked. It had prompted every teacher dating back to preschool to call her ‘mature for her age’. The divorce hadn’t noticeably changed anything about Trixie’s personality — but still, it was hard not to worry there were some scars from it.

“You’re worried that Lucifer will leave Rory?”

Trixie scooted to sit up against the headboard. “I don’t think he will, but what if it does happen? What if he’s only doing a good job because we’re here to help him? You already can’t find her mom. What happens if he doesn’t want Rory either?”

Chloe hesitated. She tried to find the right words to be honest but still reassuring. “Well… if that happened, then we would look for other family members for Rory to stay with.”

“But what if you can’t find them either?” Trixie pushed. “Rory needs a family. I don’t want her to go to a foster home. She wouldn’t like it.”

“I promise, we would do everything we could to keep that from happening.”

“Can we keep her?”

“What?” Chloe said.

Her daughter stared up at her with worried eyes. She looked too young and too old all over again as she repeated, “Can we keep her? Like as a back-up family so Rory won’t be all alone.”

Chloe had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep herself from tearing up. She took a breath and then clasped Trixie’s hands in hers. “I love that you’re asking that. I’m really proud of you for caring what happens to Rory. You’ve been doing an amazing job being patient with her and playing with her these past couple of weeks.”

Trixie grinned. “She called me the best big sister ever earlier. Did you hear it?”

“Yes, I did.” Chloe smiled too. “She’s really gotten attached to you too, huh?”

Trixie nodded.

Chloe continued, “And I think you’re right. I think Lucifer’s doing a really good job and figuring out how to be a dad. He and Rory will be just fine. She won’t need a back-up family.”

“Okay,” Trixie said. “If you think so, too.”

“I really do.”

Reassured, Trixie slipped back down beneath the covers. Chloe gave her another good night kiss and warned her not to turn on the TV when she left because they still had to be up on time for school the next day.

In the hall, Chloe closed the bedroom door, but her mind wouldn’t let go of what Trixie had said. She couldn’t deny that things were uncertain with Rory — more uncertain than her daughter even realized since Rory was an angel — but everything would work out. It had to. Rory deserved nothing less.

This was when a Christian would put their trust in God. Chloe had never been religious. She’d prayed before in times of danger, but those were pleas to the universe more than anything else. God had never been worth talking to.

But it turned out God was as real as angels, which meant the stories about what God was like should be real too. They said He was all-knowing, all-powerful, and — most importantly here — all-loving. An all-loving God wouldn’t let Rory be abandoned.

Then again, those were the same stories that painted Lucifer as this terrible, evil monster. And Chloe already knew in reality, God had sent his wife to Hell for his son to torture — which was fucked up enough when she’d thought it was just a metaphor. So, maybe an all-loving God was just as big of a lie as an evil Devil.

A tiny silhouette down the hallway pulled Chloe out of her thoughts.

“Rory?” she asked quietly. She walked closer until she could see the girl’s face in the dim light. “Hey baby, are you okay?”

No tears streaked Rory’s face, and her pajamas were dry. Though, she didn’t look quite awake as she stared blankly at Chloe.

“Why are you out of bed?” she asked.

Rory shrugged.

“Did you have a bad dream?”

“I just woke up,” Rory said in that innocent little toddler voice that made Chloe’s heart squeeze.

“You just woke up, huh? Well, how about we go back to bed, okay?”

Rory didn’t reply. She only stared sleepily at the wall, so Chloe gently turned her around and guided her back towards the bedroom. When they reached the door, though, the girl suddenly stopped and turned her distressed face up to Chloe.

“Uh oh! I have to pee.”

Chloe chuckled. “Okay, let’s go pee, then. Come on.”

Rory’s sleepiness made her slow to follow instructions, but Chloe got her bathroom needs taken care of without too much struggle. The act of washing her hands, though, woke her up, and Rory managed several gleeful splashes under the faucet before Chloe could capture her hands with the towel.

“Come on, monkey. It’s time to go back to bed.”

Rory dashed into the bedroom ahead of her, giggling all the way. Chloe chased her down and plopped her back into her fancy Paw Patrol bed.

“Oh, you’re so silly,” Chloe teased as Rory giggled again. “Just so, so silly. Now, do you want a bedtime story to fall back asleep?”

She received a mischievous grin in response, and then Rory flipped the blanket up over her face.

“No, we’re not playing hide-and-seek.”

Rory disagreed with a laugh. She flipped the blanket down for a quick second before flipping it back up over her face. Oh, no. Chloe needed to put a stop to this game or Rory would never fall back asleep.

An idea came to mind.

“Hey, Rory. Do you remember Charlie’s birthday?”

The blanket came down again. “Charlie!”

“Yeah, Charlie is your cousin, right?”

Rory sat up, her interest piqued. She asked, “Is he still mad at me?”

“Oh, I don’t think your cousin can stay mad at you,” Chloe said. “Not when you know his birthday by heart. Can you sing the song with me? How does it go again?”

She had hoped Rory would jump right into it, but the girl must have been sleepy still beneath her giggles. She only stared until Chloe prompted her by tapping out the beat.

“Charlie was born on—“

“One-two-six!” Rory jumped in with a grin.

“Good job!” Chloe said. “Charlie was born on one-two-six. Now, when was Rory born? Do you remember your birthday?”

It was a stretch, but if Rory had spent enough time with her cousin to know his birthday chant, then maybe she had been taught her birthday the same way.

“Do you remember?” Chloe prompted again when Rory looked uncertain. “Here, I’ll help.” She tapped her hands on the beat again and said, “Rory was born on—“

“Three!” the girl answered. Like always, she held up three fingers to show off her age.

“That’s right, you’re three.” Chloe was ready to redirect Rory back to the actual date of her birth when she noticed Rory had brought up her other hand to press a finger back down. Once, she had her grip on it, she held up her hand again.

“Two!”

Back down. Carefully, Rory raised her third finger back up and rearranged her thumb to hold down her pinky finger.

“Three!” she finished with a grin.

“Three-two-three?” Chloe said. After a week of asking, had she really managed to get the girl’s birthday? “You were born on three-two-three?”

Rory blinked, no longer sure. She pushed her hand closer to Chloe. “Three.”

“Good, okay. Let’s do it together one more time. How about you clap your hands this time, and I’ll hold up my fingers, okay? Ready?”

Obediently, Rory clapped her hands. Together, they chanted, “Rory was born on three-two-three,” while Chloe flashed the numbers on her hand.

“That’s me!” the girl declared when they finished.

“Three-two-three,” Chloe repeated. “Your birthday is March 23?”

“That’s me.” Rory clasped her hands over her chest, thrilled with her success.

March twenty-third. That was just next month, only what, five weeks away? Rory was almost four.

“Good job, monkey. I’m so proud of you.” Chloe forced a smile so the girl wouldn’t see her turbulent emotions. “Now, let’s get you tucked back in.”

Rory laid back down and happily accepted both Roger Bear to snuggle and a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Good night, baby girl. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“I love you, Mommy.”

Chloe’s breath caught in her chest. She hesitated and then leaned back down to place a second kiss on the girl’s temple. “I love you too, Rory.”

Lucifer stared out over the city. The traffic flowed back and forth in waves far below his balcony. Up above, the stars shone steadily, though unseen, through the flare of LA’s nightlife. He didn’t stand out here to start another one-sided argument with his father. This time, he just wanted some air to relieve the dense weight on his chest. Each day with Rory felt more permanent than the last. Eleven days on, and they still had no answers, no explanations.

But he knew. He knew what the answer was. He just didn’t want to admit it.

“Hey.”

Chloe slipped in beside him and rested her arms on the railing. She’d been with him for nearly two weeks as well, living in the penthouse to help care for the infant. The arrangement had become so normal, Lucifer couldn’t say whose absence he would notice more: Chloe’s or Rory’s.

“The Urchin in bed now?” he asked.

Chloe nodded. “And then Rory was up again, but I got her back to sleep too.”

Lucifer huffed, as much out of amusement as exasperation. “Nothing about her is easy, is it?”

“Don’t take it personally,” Chloe said. A teasing smile emerged. “All three year olds are handfuls.”

“I expect that’s all children and not something age-specific,” Lucifer said.

Chloe laughed. “Yep. Sorry, it doesn’t get easier.”

Lucifer shrugged off the teasing. He flipped his phone over in his hand. One slip and it would shatter on the sidewalk far, far below, but he was never in danger of dropping it. Call it angel strength or angel reflexes… angel surety? Something like that. It was a quirk he’d never given a name before. It was a quirk the infant definitely hadn’t inherited. She dropped things constantly, and only about fifty percent of the time was it on purpose.

“What are you thinking about?” Chloe asked.

He flipped his phone over again before holding it up. “No text yet from Ella. Apparently, DNA results aren’t a priority when everyone knows what the answer will be.”

Chloe fell silent. She waited for him to speak, that seemingly limitless patience of hers giving him space to work through this at his own pace. But he didn’t want to drag it on anymore, so he decided to rip the bandage off.

“I have a daughter,” Lucifer said. “I don’t have any idea how, but she’s mine.”

He’d thought saying it out loud would make it too real. That’s why he’d stuck with denial. Rory couldn’t be his if he never said it out loud. But it turned out admitting Rory was his daughter didn’t make it feel any more real after all. He knew the words were true, but he still couldn’t grasp their meaning.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” he continued. “Rory knows so much about us that it’s like someone, my parents, implanted memories in her head — but that’s not what happened, is it?” He glanced at Chloe. “She was born. She learned. She was abandoned. She’s coping. No conspiracy to be found. She’s just… innocent. More than innocent. She hasn’t had any choice in this situation either. She doesn’t even understand what’s going on.”

“She understands enough.” Chloe took a deep breath and said, “I learned her birthday.”

Lucifer frowned. “She didn’t know her birthday.”

Chloe nodded. “It’s the same chant she used for her cousin’s. It just took a little more prompting. Her birthday is March 23. Three-two-three.”

March 23. “That’s next month.”

“I know,” Chloe said. “Your little girl’s almost four.”

Rory was only weeks away from turning four. The weight in Lucifer’s chest constricted painfully before easing back into its heavy cloud. His daughter would be celebrating her birthday with strangers — no matter what she’d been taught about them, that’s what they still were: strangers. He thought he should be angry on her behalf, angry on his own behalf, even. Instead, he felt deeply, achingly sad.

Chloe spoke. “This means we can narrow down your list and search again. We have her birthday now. We could find her mother.”

“What would be the point?” Lucifer asked. “Whoever she is, she didn’t want Rory. She probably saw her wings and ran off scared. And who can blame her?”

“I can.” Chloe’s tone sharpened to steel. “Being scared isn’t an excuse for abandoning your kid. You’re scared, but you haven’t left Rory. I didn’t even know angels were real, and I’m still here.”

“Because you’re good,” Lucifer said, and he meant it in the most capitalized, complete definition of the word.

Chloe shook her head. “There isn’t some innate quality that makes someone a good parent. There’s not a magic formula. You just try; you put the effort in. You don’t give up.”

And that’s exactly why you’re so good, Lucifer thought. No one was as dauntless as the Detective.

“But,” some of the steel faded from Chloe’s voice, “I hate thinking that someone abandoned Rory. I just can’t believe anyone would look at that little girl and think she wasn’t worth the effort, let alone her own mother. We could be wrong about what happened.”

Lucifer didn’t understand what she was talking about. “No one was with Rory at the precinct.”

“No,” Chloe said. “And I’m not excusing it, and I can’t say it’s what I would’ve done — but if her mother felt like she didn’t have a choice. If Rory wasn’t safe with her anymore, then I could understand why her mother would send her away.”

That night two years ago when Malcolm Graham kidnapped Trixie flashed through Lucifer’s mind. Chloe had rushed headlong into danger to keep her daughter safe, and she would do the same again today. If someone threatened her daughter, there’d be no reason to send her daughter away because Chloe would already be there eliminating the threat.

Rory’s mother hadn’t done that. Lucifer knew it as deeply as he knew Rory was his. There had been no danger. Instead, Rory had been dumped on their doorstop like a box of unwanted kittens — but of course, the Detective would give the girl’s mother the benefit of the doubt. Chloe always tried to see the best in people even when she probably shouldn’t.

Like him.

He cleared his throat to clear his mind. It would be all too easy to follow that train of thought into a hole of despair with the current state of his emotions.

Instead, he changed the subject. “Why aren’t you in bed already, too? It’s always an early day when you have to take Trixie to school.”

Graciously, Chloe allowed the new topic. “I know, but I’m kind of procrastinating.”

“Why?” Lucifer asked. Childcare was exhausting. More often than not, he had found himself falling into bed the second the living room had been cleared of the infant’s activities. He couldn’t think of a single compelling reason for Chloe to stay awake longer than necessary.

The realization that he had forgotten sex as a compelling reason smashed into his head like an anvil. That was it. The final straw. Let the Sinnerman take over LA. Might as well! The Devil clearly didn’t exist anymore. He was a dad.

Oblivious to his depressing realization, Chloe answered, “Your daughter kicks in her sleep.”

“But she has her own bed now,” Lucifer said.

“Yeah, so she kicks the wall.” Chloe laughed. “You haven’t heard it?”

“I have very good sound-proofing,” Lucifer deadpanned. “What do you mean she kicks the wall? Is she hurt?”

“No, she doesn’t even wake up.”

“That’s not proof of anything.”

“Lucifer’s she’s fine,” Chloe assured him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to worry you. It’s just a harmless quirk. Once she falls into a deep sleep, she barely moves at all.”

“Alright,” Lucifer said, though his frown didn’t relax. Here they were hypothesizing that Rory might have been left with him for protection, and he couldn’t even discern the real dangers from the anxious paranoia. It was just proof again that Rory’s mother had abandoned her out of fear for herself and not for Rory. No one could truly believe a child would be better off with him. He was just the last option.

He pushed these thoughts away too. “Still, you can take my bed if you’d like. No funny business,” he added with an automatic smirk. “I doubt I’ll be sleeping tonight, anyway.”

“I’ll be fine, but thank you.”

Chloe’s smile seemed half-hearted as well, but that could be Lucifer projecting his own mood. He wished her good night. Before Chloe retired inside, though, she reached out and gently squeezed his arm.

“You should try and get some sleep, too,” she said. “You’re not alone with Rory. Together, we’ll figure things out, okay?”

She’s not even yours, he wanted to say. How could Chloe have this much compassion for someone who amounted to a very loud and very exhausting stranger? It was baffling.

“Thank you,” was what he did say. His smile, though small, was entirely genuine.

Chapter Text

A lull wasn’t really in Chloe’s vocabulary these days, not since regaining the trust of her department. Her and Lucifer’s quickness at closing cases meant Chloe always had a steady stream of work. She was the first assigned to new cases, and the first reassigned when a death turned out to be accidental or when a higher priority case cropped up demanding her attention — which made this current gap between investigations so damn frustrating. Chloe still didn’t understand why Pierce had handed over the Pillegi case to Organized Crime. She certainly didn’t understand why she hadn’t been assigned a new case since. A suspicious death was reported in their district this week, and Pierce had assigned it to Detectives Anderson and Medina despite the pair already having an open case they couldn’t solve. And what about the other four open cases in their department? If he wasn’t going to give her a new case, then surely he would shift her over to one of those, right? No. Of course, he wouldn’t. Because that would make sense, and the man was determined to be the most confusing and opaque person in the fucking office.

And Chloe was well on her way to becoming the angriest. She shut her eyes and tried to calm down. This was just boredom talking. The last of her paperwork from past cases had been wrapped up two days ago, so now she’d been saddled with everyone else’s. Currently, she was confirming witness IDs matched the statements and addresses initially gathered at a crime scene for the DA’s office. It was so excruciatingly tedious that Chloe almost wished another person would die just so she could finally have something else to investigate.

(The keyword there being ‘almost’, of course.)

A sudden rise in chatter from the other side of the partition made her frown. She glanced through the glass and saw Anderson and Medina gathering up their belongings for the second time that week while Pierce walked back towards his office.

“Tell me he didn’t,” she muttered. Her anger rose with her as she stood up and marched around the corner to Medina’s desk.

“Hey. Did Pierce just give you another case?”

Medina glanced towards Anderson. The gesture was answer enough. He always made Anderson handle the uncomfortable conversations.

Sure enough, Anderson replied, “Yeah. What’s the problem?”

Chloe could hear her fuming heartbeat in her ears. She forced another deep breath to keep her voice even. “Why would he give you another case when you’re still trying to close two others?”

“Well, who’s he supposed to give it to?” Anderson countered. “You?”

“Since I don’t currently have an open case right now, yeah, it probably should go to me.”

Medina frowned. “I thought you were on family leave.”

Her anger consumed this assumption like kindling. The burning spread through her veins.

“Unbelievable,” she snapped and spun away for Pierce’s office. Skipping the courtesy of a knock, she barged straight inside, marched over to Pierce’s desk, and glared at the man sitting behind it.

“What is your problem with me?” she asked.

Her boss didn’t bother glancing up until he’d finished the sentence he was writing. Then, with a tone as equally impassive as his expression, he said, “How’s your day going, Decker?”

“You gave Anderson and Medina a new case.”

“Yes, I did,” Pierce said, calmly. “Is that what you came in here for?”

“They still have two others open. Why would you give them another one?” Chloe demanded.

“Because it’s in Nevin, just a block from where Medina lives. His familiarity with the area will help them close it faster.”

“Bullshit!”

The curse, at least, earned a raised eyebrow from Pierce.

“Those two have the worst close record in the entire LAPD,” Chloe said. “Giving them yet another case isn’t going to help with that. Meanwhile, you have me sitting behind a desk doing nothing.”

“I’m pretty sure I gave you a witness list to crosscheck for the upcoming Calderon trial.”

“That’s busy work for a temp and you know it,” Chloe said. “Why are you punishing me? What, was I not grateful enough when you were shot saving my life? Too grateful?”

Pierce rolled his eyes like she was the one with a childish vendetta. “Come on, Decker. This isn’t personal.”

“Really?” Chloe said. “Because where I’m standing, not only does it look personal, but it looks downright discriminatory.”

“Discriminatory?” Pierce said. “Just who am I discriminating against?”

“Parents.”

Pierce pointed out into the bullpen. “Anderson is a parent.”

“Exactly,” Chloe said. “Half the people who work here have kids, so why are you targeting me and Lucifer just because he has a daughter now?”

“So, now it’s not personal against you,” Pierce said. “You think Lucifer’s the reason I’m not giving you cases. Do you even know what your problem with me is or are you just angry?”

Chloe clenched her jaw. “Stop twisting my words around. You took away the Pillegi case, and you haven’t assigned us another since Rory showed up. That’s not a coincidence.”

“No, it’s not,” Pierce agreed. “Most people would call that family leave, actually, but Lucifer’s a consultant so officially we can’t grant him that. What I can do is not assign his partner any cases so he can have time to adjust to being a father.”

Chloe had disliked her bosses before: directors, casting agents, her first lieutenant. A couple of those she hadn’t trusted further than she could throw them, and she’d never hesitated to confront them if she thought they were wrong. But right now, in this second, she truly hated Pierce. She hated him for pretending to be considerate when he was being anything but, and she hated him for staying calm like that was a ‘get out of jail’ card for being an ass.

“You can’t punish me because Lucifer has a child,” she pointed out. “That’s the definition of discrimination.”

Pierce shrugged. “I thought I was being helpful.”

This was a waste of her time. Pierce had already made up his mind.

“Fine,” Chloe said. “Keep one of your best detectives on the sidelines. When our close rate takes a hit this year, I’ll happily explain to the commissioner why.”

She didn’t even mean it as a threat. She was too busy stifling the urge to shoot her boss in the leg to plan how she could go over his head.

Pierce certainly didn’t feel threatened. As she reached for the door, he said, “You didn’t even call yourself the best detective outright. You can’t be that upset.”

“No, I just don’t have faith that you can recognize the difference,” Chloe retorted.

Dan gave her a questioning look as she returned to her desk. “Everything okay?”

“No.” Her chest still raged. As she sat down, she pulled her chair in too quickly and slammed her shin into the back edge of the desk. The pain felt satisfying, though. Not as satisfying as shooting Pierce would be, but it was still an outlet for her anger.

Dan left his desk and slipped into the spare chair at hers. In a lower voice, he asked, “What happened?”

“Pierce gave Anderson and Medina another case.”

“Is that why they took off? I thought it was early for lunch.” Dan paused for a second. “Wait, when did they close their other ones?”

“They didn’t,” Chloe said.

Dan raised his eyebrows. “Seriously?”

“No, I’m lying,” Chloe snapped. “Because I’m the one with a grudge against Pierce and not the other way around. Clearly.”

“Okay, what the hell is going on?” Dan asked. “Did he accuse you of that?”

“No! I don’t know!” Chloe exhaled in a huff. “I don’t know what’s going on. Pierce either has it out for me or Lucifer or both, and I’m real sick of it.”

Dan hummed and relaxed back in his chair. “It might not be that personal. Pierce seems to have it out for everyone. He certainly hates me still.”

“Hate would imply he makes an effort to show emotion,” Chloe said. “Not walk around all stoic and composed like a fricking robot.”

“Not true. He just yelled at Ella the other day.”

“What?” Chloe said.

Dan nodded. “Yeah, on Monday. You didn’t hear it?”

“No. How did I miss that?”

“I don’t know, but it even made Ella cry.”

“Ella cried?” People didn’t yell at Ella. She was the friendliest person in the entire precinct. Everyone loved her. And the only time Chloe could remember her crying at work was when she’d mistakenly watched Marley & Me late one night and was still upset about it the next morning.

A strangely goofy smile appeared on Dan’s face. “Yeah, Charlotte stepped in and defended her.”

Ah, Charlotte. Now, Chloe understood the smile. “That was nice of her.”

Dan’s grin widened. “Yeah, it was. I mean, she didn’t make a scene or anything. Kept up appearances. But whatever she said to him in private sure looked threatening.”

“Uh huh.” Chloe peered at Dan, trying to read anything unsaid in his expression. “So, uh… how are things going with you and Charlotte? Don’t you have a second date coming up?”

Dan turned cagey. “It’s good…. Yeah, it’s good. It’s… I don’t know, we’re going slow.” He shrugged. “It’s way less confusing this time. Mostly. I don’t know, we’ll see.”

Chloe slowly nodded. Oh, Dan really liked Charlotte. He only skirted around giving a straight answer when he was nervous, and he was only nervous in relationships when he was really hoping for one particular outcome. It was cute. She hoped things truly were going well between them — though, she had never asked Lucifer what Charlotte’s whole story was about temporarily being the Goddess of All Creation or if any of his mother’s time on Earth overlapped with Dan’s on-and-off relationship with Charlotte. For Dan’s sake, she chose to believe they were two entirely separate events.

(For her own sanity as well.)

“Good,” she said. “I’m glad you’re happy.”

Dan’s smile crept back out. “Yeah, it’s new. It’s early. Whatever.”

Chloe snorted. “You so have it bad.”

“Shut up.”

She didn’t get the chance to tease him more. Vocalized trumpet sounds suddenly blasted across the precinct, drawing everyone’s attention away. At the top of the stairs, stood Lucifer, followed closely by a crowd of about two dozen officers who all gathered behind him like he was a grand marshal at a parade.

Lucifer’s large grin and projected voice suggested he believed he was playing a grand marshal as well. “Attention all employees of the LAPD!” he announced. “We interrupt your day of tedious drudgery for the very important debut of a young, up-and-coming fashion model.”

It wasn’t hard to guess who the fashion model was. Rory sat happily perched on Lucifer’s hip while his other hand carried half a dozen bulging shopping bags. What fashion Rory would be modeling, though, remained a mystery. Her current outfit was covered by a puffy coat so long, Chloe could only spot the black soles of her shoes peeking out of the bottom. Any other time, the girl’s face would be splotched with tears over this egregious offense. Today, however, her ear-to-ear grin said she chose to wear this jacket — or had at least accepted it was necessary for the game.

Rory’s pigtails bounced as Lucifer walked them down the stairs. Twin streaks of pink reflected brightly under the precinct’s fluorescent lights, reassuring Chloe that it was acrylic hair clipped into her pigtails and that Lucifer had not been reckless enough to dump harsh chemicals on a three year old’s head. She’d also noticed, in relief, that Rory’s face was entirely free of make-up. There were a hundred explanations for that, but Chloe couldn’t help but wonder if Lucifer had taken all of her stories and complaints about being a child actor to heart and had intentionally avoided painting Rory into a mini-adult.

Though, Rory still worked the crowd like she was walking into an audition (or a fan meet-and-greet). She waved and grinned at the gathering officers, even calling out to some by name. Her grin grew impossibly bigger with every returned wave. She was nearly vibrating with excitement over whatever fashion show they had planned.

Said fashion show was delayed for a minute when Lucifer took a detour over to Dan’s desk. He sized up the length of it, nodded in satisfaction, and then realized between Rory and the bulging shopping bags that both of his hands were full. “Hm… right. Okay infant, kick this junk to the floor, will you? We need to clear space.”

“Hey hey hey, whoa!” Dan rushed over when Rory looked ready to follow through on Lucifer’s instructions. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Lucifer replied, “Well, we need a runway, Daniel. How else can we have a fashion show?”

“Yeah, Danny!” Rory chimed in.

Dan pointed to the corner by the stairs. “Then, take the empty table that’s right over there.”

“But that’s so inconvenient!” Lucifer whined.

Dan (rightfully) didn’t budge, so Lucifer conceded with a sigh and then muttered to Rory, “You see? He has no appreciation for the arts. I told you.” Rory gleefully giggled in response. The two of them were clearly in full cahoots for whatever this was, and Chloe found it too adorable to care about the chaos they were causing.

Pierce didn’t find it adorable. Chloe spotted him glaring from the doorway of his office. Pettily, she was glad to see him unhappy. Wasn’t this exactly what he wanted? To give Lucifer time to be a dad? If Lucifer used that time to interrupt everyone’s workday with a toddler fashion show, then Pierce really didn’t have anyone to blame but himself.

Two officers moved the table for Lucifer. He thanked them with his charming smile and directed them to center it with the stairs. Then, he dropped ‘backstage’ (to the floor) with Rory to make last minute adjustments to her clothing. Rory danced her feet in place and snuck looks over her shoulder to wave at the crowd some more. It made the process of readying her more difficult, but eventually Lucifer was satisfied and he stood back up.

“Alright then, let’s begin!” He clapped his hands together. “Welcome everyone and thank you for attending LA’s 2018 Toddler Fashion Show. The theme and inspiration for this early spring collection was pink.”

“Badass!” Rory interrupted from his knees.

“Correction,” Lucifer said over the chuckles. “Badass pink. And we have selected the absolute perfect model to show off these pieces: a three year old who truly understands everything badass and pink.”

“Yeah!” Rory squealed.

Chloe stopped caring what Pierce or anyone else was doing and pushed her way to the front of the crowd to ensure a good view.

Lucifer continued, “So without further ado, please welcome to the runway, the one and only — literally in the entire history of the universe — Miss Rory Morningstar!”

Music began playing over his phone. Chloe clasped her hands to her mouth as Lucifer helped Rory out of the puffy coat and then lifted her up onto the table-turned-runway. Instantly, Rory posed with both fists at her hips like a superhero. Her outfit was revealed to be a vibrant orange zip-up hoodie, black jeans, and deep magenta combat boots with black soles and laces. The entire ensemble clashed in that exact way that screamed ‘I picked this out myself,’ and Rory couldn’t look more pleased with it.

Lucifer only acknowledged the clashing colors by explaining, “We’ve named this first look Sunset of the Rich and Famous.”

“Badass,” Rory corrected again.

“Badass Sunset for short,” Lucifer added. He gestured at Rory. “Go on then, infant. Strut your stuff.”

Rory dropped her hands to her sides and — with great concentration — stared straight ahead as she marched down the table. Lucifer had clearly tried to teach her the runway walk, and while Rory was close on the posture, she clomped her feet with every step. The end result was less ‘runway’ and more ‘goth tween who needed the entire world to know they finally owned a pair of combat boots.’ Chloe fought desperately not to tear up at the image of Rory as a twelve year old middle schooler. She would grow up to be such a wild child, Chloe just knew it.

Dan slid in beside her. At the end of the table, Rory placed a single hand on her hip and then popped the hip out to strike a pose. He laughed. “Did your mother teach her that move?”

Chloe groaned. “No, that’s all Rory.”

The girl grinned as she held her pose. “I look good!” she said, and the crowd cheered in agreement. Much like her father, the energy fed her excitement. Giddily, she pointed down to her shoes and said, “Look at my boots!”

Chloe laughed. The fight with Pierce and her lingering anger swiftly washed away in the face of Rory’s perfect adorableness. She reached down for her pocket only to find it empty. “Oh crap, I left my phone at my desk.” She needed pictures of this, like thousands of pictures so she could memorize every single moment, but the crowd had grown again and she now stood three people away from her desk.

“I’ve got you,” Dan said, pulling out his own phone.

Chloe grinned. “Thank you.”

Dan nodded. Then, he leaned over and whispered. “Don’t think I missed him calling her ‘Morningstar’ up there.”

“She’s always been Morningstar.”

“Yeah, but this time he said it.”

Chloe shushed him and then checked to see if he was recording or taking pictures. He’d opted to record.

“We can probably get her to pose for pictures at the end.”

“Easily,” Chloe agreed. Especially, if they asked for pictures of those combat boots, because Rory still hadn’t stopped showing them off. She’d very nearly sat down on the table, in fact, to launch into a lecture about all the reasons why these boots were the best shoes in the world when the girl suddenly froze in a realization.

“Oh, I have ears!” Rory shot back up to her feet and flipped her hood up over her head to reveal not only pointy ears, but an entire fox face stamped onto the fabric. She bounced in excitement when the crowd clapped for that as well. Then, she declared, “Switch, Daddy!”

Abruptly, she spun around to run back down the table, but Lucifer scooped her up before she’d gone two steps. He set her back safely on the floor, and together they rummaged through the shopping bags. Rory called out “Hide!” and, like magic, an officer from the evidence room was at her side to hold up her coat and block the crowd’s view.

Hey Lucifer, I think your angel powers are showing. Chloe grinned and mentally planned how she would tease him later over how alike he and Rory were.

The wardrobe change was quick. The coat dropped, and Lucifer lifted Rory back up on the table. Her fox hoodie had been removed to show off a coral pink muscle tee. Rory marched proudly down the table again, this time with slightly less clomping. At the end of the runway, she held out her hand instead of striking a pose.

“Jacket, Daddy.”

“Right away, Miss Morningstar,” he said, and Chloe had to bite her lip to endure the cuteness. Lucifer pulled out a black denim jacket covered in colorful patches and helped Rory slip it on. Rory then flipped the ends of her pigtails out of the collar like a baby diva and held out her hand again.

“Glasses, Daddy.”

Lucifer held up a pair of magenta sunglasses. “To complete the ensemble.”

He helped her slide them on without catching her hair or stabbing herself in the eye. Rory bounced on her toes, too ecstatic to stand still. The sunglasses were shaded perfectly to match her combat boots, but Rory would’ve loved them even if they had been neon green. Lucifer was partially right in his belief that children chose candy based solely off of color, but color couldn’t matter less when it came to clothing. For three year olds, getting dressed was still more about the experience than achieving any particular look, and right now Rory was having the time of her life playing dress up with her father.

Outfit complete, Rory posed again for her audience. Chloe cheered along with the rest of the room, and then leaned over to check Dan’s recording.

“You’re still getting all of this, right?”

“I’m getting it,” Dan assured her. With a nudge, he added, “Hey, maybe you’ll get to move back home soon.”

“What?” Chloe said.

Dan nodded towards the fashion show. “Lucifer’s killing it. Looks like he’s fully adjusted to dad-hood.”

Yes, and? Chloe very nearly asked. His words didn’t make sense. There was no association between Lucifer adjusting to being a dad and her moving back home, so why would Dan suggest there was?

But then, her mind zoomed out, and she remembered how the situation looked on the outside. To everyone else, she was just helping out because Rory’s mother had thrown Lucifer in the deep end of parenthood without any warning or instructions. It was supposed to be temporary — and that perception wasn’t wrong. It had been temporary. Not that she and Lucifer had ever really discussed a time frame for her staying at his place. They had been too stressed with angel reveals and ensuring Rory didn’t cry herself sick. But temporary was the normal assumption. After all, they were just partners — work partners — and Rory wasn’t her daughter.

But… she almost was by now. Kind of. Chloe had fallen hard and fast for that little girl, and Rory was certainly attached to her. She called her ‘mommy’ already. Chloe couldn’t leave her. It would be cruel to let Rory be abandoned twice. And Trixie didn’t have any complaints about the arrangement. She’d even suggested they adopt Rory into their own family if Lucifer couldn’t keep her. So, why would they need to move out? Why couldn’t they continue to stay and help take care of Rory?

Rory’s eyes found hers in the crowd and her face lit up impossibly brighter. “Mommy!” she squealed. She would’ve leaped off the table, then and there, if Lucifer didn’t rush to grab her first. Once more, he gently set her down on the floor, and Rory sprinted straight over to Chloe.

“Mommy, look at me! I’m so pretty!”

Chloe kept her smile firmly in place as she knelt down to greet the girl with a big hug. (See? I can’t go anywhere. It would hurt her too much.) “Yes, you are, monkey! Did you go shopping for new clothes with Daddy?”

“Yeah, did you see my boots?” Rory lifted her foot in the air and pointed at her shoe.

“I did. They look amazing!”

“They’re pink!”

“They are so pink!”

Lucifer joined them and said, “Yes, thank goodness we found them near the end of our outing, otherwise her entire wardrobe would’ve been that exact shade of magenta.”

“No, Magenta is Blue’s friend,” Rory stated.

Chloe looked down at her. “You watch Blue’s Clues, too?”

“Yeah,” Rory said. She stroked the side of her shoe. “My boots are more pretty than Magenta.”

“You like your pink boots, huh?”

Seriously, Rory said, “No, I love my pink boots, Mommy. They’re my favorite.”

Dan stooped down with his phone still out. “Hey Rory, say cheese.”

Immediately, Rory posed without question, and Chloe chuckled. The girl was such a ham.

“Did you get my boots?” Rory asked, raising her foot up again.

“You bet I got those cool boots, but I can get more pictures of them,” Dan said.

Rory had to sit on the floor to get her foot up by her head like she wanted. Even still, her attempts to pose for the camera made her topple back against Chloe who laughed. She kissed the side of Rory’s head and was rewarded with another grin.

The crowd of onlookers had followed Rory across the room and were now circled around Chloe, craning their necks to get better looks at the adorable toddler sitting in her lap. Smugly, Chloe kissed Rory’s head again. She didn’t have to fight a crowd for Rory’s attention. Rory always specifically sought her out on her own because Rory belonged to her. No, she wasn’t her actual daughter, but the girl was still hers in a way she wasn’t for anyone other than Lucifer. It only strengthened her conviction to stay. Dan was wrong. Chloe wouldn’t move out of Lucifer’s. Unless someone (mainly Lucifer) forced her to, there wasn’t a good enough reason for her to leave.

Dan wrapped up the pictures and said, “I think I got some good ones.” He squinted down at the boots. “Hang on, do those say Vuitton?”

“You have some intelligence after all,” Lucifer said. He sounded far more impressed than his words suggested. “Yes, those are Vuittons.”

Chloe didn’t know Louis Vuitton made toddler sized combat boots, but Dan was hung up on a different point.

“You spent a thousand bucks on toddler shoes?”

Now, Lucifer looked offended. “A thousand? For those custom pieces of art? Please, you’re not paying anything less than three.”

“Three grand?” Dan exclaimed. “For shoes she’s going to outgrow in two weeks?”

“And that’s why we’ve already bought the next two sizes up.” Lucifer scoffed. “I’ve read the parenting books, you know. I’m not an amateur.”

Dropping that kind of money on toddler clothes seemed beyond Dan’s comprehension, but this was Lucifer they were talking about. The man could afford to buy Lux’s entire building and had more cars than any human could drive in their lifetime. Chloe didn’t know what Dan had expected.

Rory snuggled into Chloe’s chest. “I love my boots,” she said with the level of contentment only children seemed capable of.

Chloe hugged her. “I’m glad you love them. They look so good on you.”

“Yeah, they’re me,” Rory agreed. She traced the side of her magenta boots again, lost in admiration — but then her attention flicked over to someone walking by., and she popped up so quickly she nearly smacked into Chloe’s chin.

“Ooph!” Chloe luckily dodged out of the way so only Rory’s hair brushed her face.

“Aunt Ella! Aunt Ella!” Rory ran off, unaware of the near-injury. She caught Ella in front of the lab and pointed down at her feet. “Look at my pink boots!”

If anyone in the precinct could exclaim and gush at a high enough level to satisfy a three year old, it would be the walking ray of sunshine, herself. But today, Ella could only muster up a quick glance down at Rory.

“They look cool,” she said without really taking in the shoes.

“Aren’t they pretty?” Rory asked.

“Sure,” Ella said half-heartedly, which was like a tenth of a heart for her. “They’re super pretty. Good job, kid.” And then she brushed Rory off and disappeared into the lab.

Chloe frowned. That was weird. There wasn’t a case she was aware of that would’ve made Ella this distracted. Mostly because not much evidence had been found yet to send to the lab (bet that would’ve been different if Pierce had assigned just one of them to her). She glanced over at Dan to see if he’d noticed Ella’s strange mood, and he mouthed back ‘I told you.’ Chloe’s frown deepened. Surely, Ella wasn’t this upset over Pierce yelling at her… was she?

“Looks like you’re being paged for an encore, infant,” Lucifer said. “Come along. We have more clothes to show off.”

Already forgetting Ella’s lackluster response, Rory giddily sprinted to Lucifer’s side and returned to her makeshift fashion show. Chloe stood up, but she couldn’t shake off Ella’s muted mood as easily as the toddler could.

She glanced into the lab. Through the window, she could see Ella working at the counter. Her face was in profile, but she looked even more dejected in the privacy of the lab. Rory, on the other hand, was blissfully happy and occupied with a crowd full of admirers. If Chloe was going to check in with Ella, now would be as good as time as ever.

She alerted Dan of her plan and secured his promise to continue filming Rory’s performance. Then, she slipped off to the lab. The door was closed, so she knocked to announce her presence. She didn’t get a response, but Lucifer had the music up loud enough that Ella might not have heard her. When a second knock went unanswered, Chloe let herself inside.

“Hey, Ella.”

Ella jumped and spun away from the counter. “Geez, chica! Don’t scare me like that.”

“Sorry.” Chloe closed the door to block out the noise. “I just wanted to check if you were okay. You seemed a little distracted before.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine, apart from the mini heart attack you just gave me.”

Chloe pushed on. “Right. Well, I just heard that Pierce yelled at you earlier this week. I thought you might still be upset about it.”

For a second, Ella looked as though she couldn’t remember what event Chloe was talking about, which was odd if the event was as dramatic as Dan had described. But then, Ella shook her head and said, “Oh. Yeah, he did, but that doesn’t matter.”

“Of course, it matters,” Chloe said. “What could he even possibly yell at you about, being too cheerful?”

“Ironically, yes. Something like that,” Ella said.

Chloe was taken aback. “What?”

“Yeah.” Ella gave a faint chuckle. “Crazy, right? I’m ‘too much’ he says when in reality I suck and I’m not good enough.” She shrugged. “But I guess what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”

She turned back to her work, leaving Chloe thoroughly confused. There was more to the story than that. Ella didn’t talk this way about herself.

“Did Pierce say you’re not good enough?”

“No,” Ella said. “I told you, he said I was too much. And Charlotte already confronted him about that, so don’t worry about it. Everything’s fine.”

“Everything’s not fine if you think you suck,” Chloe said. “Tell me what he really said to you.”

“He didn’t have to say anything, okay?” Ella said. “No one did. The evidence is overwhelming enough on its own.”

“Evidence for what?”

Plainly, as if she was stating the obvious, Ella repeated, “That I suck.”

“Ella, you do not suck. Stop saying that.”

“Hey, I didn’t want to believe it either!” Ella dropped her pen on the counter to gesture as she spoke. “There was this guy I went to school with, right? He used to shatter every single slide, even when someone else prepared it for him. One time, he needed seven stitches and a hepatitis shot because he broke a slide that was just sitting in the palm of his hand. He didn’t even squeeze his hand shut! I know because I was staring right at him. No one understood how he managed it!” Ella pointed to herself in horror. “I’m less competent than that guy.”

Chloe shook her head. “That’s ridiculous. No, you’re not.”

Ella gave a humorless laugh. “Oh no, it’s true. I am now so much worse at being a lab tech than he ever was.”

Seriously, what had Pierce said to her? Or maybe there was something else going on. Did they have another coworker walking around, trying to ruin people’s careers? Was it something outside of work like a fight with a family member or a bad encounter on a dating app?

“Ella,” Chloe said firmly. “I am not going to let you keep talking about yourself this way. Now, tell me what’s going on.”

“No way!” Ella replied. “Knowing I suck is bad enough. I don’t want to explain it out loud.”

“Then, you better talk to someone about what’s bothering you, because you’re amazing,” Chloe said. “In fact, you’re the best lab tech I’ve ever worked with.”

“And let’s just keep that impression, shall we? Because I’m not saying a damn word.”

All of Chloe’s fury returned. She didn’t care if Charlotte had already said something. No one was allowed to get in Ella’s head this way.

She turned for the lab door, and Ella called out, “Wait, where are you going?”

“To pick another fight with Pierce.”

Ella sprinted over to cut her off at the door. “No, you can’t! He’ll investigate me and then realize I should be fired!”

Chloe huffed. “He can’t do that. That’s called retaliation.”

“Not when I’m a fraud,” Ella panicked whispered.

“You’re not a fraud! Pierce is. You can’t listen to a word he says.”

Ella’s eyes narrowed in thought. Finally, Chloe had finally gotten through to her. And maybe now Ella would get out of her way, because Chloe would really love to at least punch her boss even if she wasn’t allowed to shoot him.

“You know, maybe I’m not a fraud,” Ella said slowly. “Maybe I do still have an out.”

“Good. Because you’re not — what are you doing?” she asked as Ella locked the door and began closing all of the blinds in the lab.

“Giving us some privacy.”

“Why?”

“Because if this is true and you didn’t say, then you probably have a very good reason to keep it a secret.”

Her confusion was swiftly knocked out with that sucker punch of a sentence. Ella wanted to ask her about a secret. But there wasn’t — there shouldn’t be a secret for Ella to ask her about. Too late — far, far too late — Chloe realized Ella’s distraught mood had absolutely nothing to do with Pierce. This was about Rory’s DNA test. It had to be. Ella must have found something in the results that had sent her spiraling.

Fuck.

Ella closed the last blind and turned back to Chloe. “I understand what I’m about to ask you is private information. You don’t have to give me any details. I just want a yes or a no answer.”

“Okay,” Chloe said cautiously.

“An honest yes or no!” Ella clarified. “You have to promise me.”

Chloe nodded. “I promise,” she said while preparing to lie through her teeth. She didn’t know exactly how she was going to lie her way out of Rory and Lucifer being angels, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to confirm their identities to anyone, not even Ella.

“Good. Okay, now.” Ella squared up her shoulders. In the most serious tone Chloe had ever heard her use, she asked, “Do you have a twin sister?”

Chloe burst out laughing.

“Hey, you promised me honesty!” Ella said.

“No.” Her relief continued spilling out as laughter. “No, I do not have a twin sister.”

“Are you sure?” Ella pressed. “Maybe there’s a long lost twin you don’t know about, and you were separated at birth.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Chloe said. “I’m a thousand percent certain I don’t have a twin sister — or any sibling, for that matter. My parents always said they were lucky to have me.”

Ella’s shoulders slumped, and her expression sunk lower than it’d been when Chloe walked in. “Then, that’s it. I’m officially the worst lab tech to ever exist. Guess I’ll just hand in my resignation now and save everyone the trouble.”

“No! Ella, I’m sorry for laughing,” Chloe said. “You caught me off guard, that’s all. But you can’t resign! How could you even suggest that?”

“Because I can’t take a fracking cheek swab properly!”

Chloe blinked, first at the unfamiliar spin on the curse ‘fucking’ and then at the implication that there was still something wrong with Rory’s DNA test. “What are you talking about?”

Ella marched over to her desk and pulled one, two — seven separate files out of a drawer and dropped them on the center table. The top folders slipped to one side causing the whole pile to topple over into a pool of manila. “I’ve completely screwed up Rory’s test results. I’m a failure.”

Chloe’s stomach twisted again. “All of these are for Rory?”

“Yep,” Ella said. “And they’re all garbage.”

All of the folders had ‘Rory Morningstar’ printed across their tabs in plain, black text. They all looked identically innocuous, contradicting whatever results waited inside them.

“Can I see them?” Chloe asked.

“Go right ahead. No point hiding it anymore.” Ella shook her head. “I just don’t understand where I went wrong. I checked every speck of our machines. I swear!”

Heart pounding, Chloe flipped through the first folder. Nothing looked out of place. Rory’s DNA looked perfectly human, just like it had the first time. And just like the first time, the analysis said Lucifer was the girl’s father — and that she was the girl’s mother. Chloe frowned. How were the results wrong again?

“How many times did you run this?” She glanced over the remaining pile.

“Five times!” Ella said. “I ran it five different times. Then, I sent it to another precinct to make sure it wasn’t our equipment, and then I sent it out to a private lab, and they all came back saying the same thing!” She heaved a frustrated sigh. “The only explanation I had left was you had a twin sister that Lucifer managed to knock up — which would be so messy and telenovela, I know. But it’s a hell of a lot better than me being a total screw-up! Are you sure you don’t have a twin you don’t know about?”

“Positive.” But Chloe was distracted by the next page of the report. “Trixie is Rory’s half-sister?”

Ella replied, “Don’t worry, I only ran Trixie’s DNA in our lab since it was just for fun.”

“But it says they’re half-sisters,” Chloe said.

“Or aunt and niece based on their percentage,” Ella said. “But both are a match to be your daughter which would make them sisters — assuming any of that was actually true.”

Assuming that was true. But it wasn’t true. Chloe read back through Trixie’s results. No match to Lucifer. Genetic match to Chloe. Genetic match to Rory. There couldn’t be only one wrong result. That didn’t make any sense. But they couldn’t all be right either, because that was impossible.

Her words to Lucifer last week filtered through her mind. She’d said the likelihood of something being true couldn’t be used to judge Rory’s existence, not when there didn’t seem to be any possible explanation. If everything was impossible, then they needed to use different criteria.

But she’d said that because she didn’t truly believe it was impossible for angels to have children. She believed Lucifer believed that. But at best, it could only be extremely unlikely. Rory might be Lucifer’s only child in the entire history of time, but she couldn’t be impossible if she was standing right in front of them.

She couldn’t be impossible if every DNA test said the same thing.

Chloe’s head swam. If Rory wasn’t as impossible as she seemed, then… what was possible? If everything about her DNA was normal except for the conclusions… then could those conclusions actually be true?

Ella continued talking. A self-flagellating rant judging from the tone, but Chloe missed every word. It was just background noise grating against her rising panic. She needed to make it stop. She needed to get out.

“Ella, this isn’t your fault,” she cut in.

“Of course, it is!” Ella said. “I’m the tech who took the samples and ran the tests. I’m supposed to be the professional, but clearly, I should find a different career!”

“No, this is Lucifer. Not you.”

Ella stopped mid-sentence. “What? How is it his fault?”

Chloe grasped for something believable, however feeble. “Because… it’s Lucifer. Because he’s been too scared to admit he’s a father — you’ve seen it. He’s been in complete denial until the last couple of days, so he messed up your tests.”

Ella struggled to accept this. “But… Lucifer messed up my tests? How?”

“It’s Lucifer,” Chloe repeated. “He always has his ways. I mean, he probably called in a favor.”

“But I called in my own favor to run it through that private lab!” Ella braced herself against the table and stared down at it for a long moment like she wanted to burn holes through the countertop. Then, she straightened back up and exclaimed at least two Spanish curse words amongst others that were too quick for Chloe to catch. In English, she said, “That is not cool! I can’t believe he did that to me. I’ve been freaking out about this for a week!”

Chloe nodded without feeling. “I know. I’m sorry. But this is definitely all Lucifer’s fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Relief warred with anger on Ella’s face as she pointed a threatening finger at Chloe. “You better tell him to never do that again.”

“I will. I’ll tell him.”

“I’m serious. If Lucifer touches my equipment again, I’ll chop his hand off. And if that doesn’t work, tell him I’m not afraid to go lower!”

“Yeah, I got it.” Chloe reached for the pile of folders still strewn across the table. “Can I take these?”

“Please! I never want to see them again.” With a groan, Ella collapsed over the table and buried her head in her arms.

Chloe bolted. Her stomach churned, and her heart raced. She was certain her thoughts would be screaming in panic, too, if she could only catch one of them long enough to examine it, but she refused to even try. She let them slip through her mind without acknowledgment because she feared what would happen if she did. It had been autopilot that let her lie to Ella. Any other conversation, any new, potential, terrifying realities would have to wait until she was well away from the precinct and all on her own —

— which wouldn’t happen anytime soon. As Chloe reached her desk, she found an overwhelming trio conversing around it.

Rory spotted her first and grinned. “Mommy, come look!”

Once again, her stomach swooped. It had felt special to be singled out by Rory, to be the one she always ran to no matter how many other people were around. Now, it felt like a premonition she’d overlooked, a warning she’d ignored until the truth was bearing down on them.

But it’s not the truth. It’s impossible.

Dan chimed in, “You need to see this, Clo.” He lifted up a black denim jacket from the mess of shopping bags now covering her desk. The jacket was larger than the one Rory still wore but was otherwise identical, right down to the patches and their positioning. “They got Trixie a matching jacket. Isn’t that adorable?”

“It was the infant’s request. Don’t lump me into it,” Lucifer hurriedly said.

“Mommy, Mommy! Look, I picked it out all by myself!” Rory tried to tug the jacket out of Dan’s hands. When she failed, he laid it back on the desk for her. She excitedly pointed to the patches and said, “Look, look! It’s Mars.”

Chloe attempted to put on a smile. (Did she look crazed? She felt crazed.) Walking closer, she saw the patch did, indeed, show an embroidered rendition of the Mars landscape. She didn’t remember Trixie ever telling Rory about her grand ambitions to live on Mars one day, but that was no reason to panic. Chloe didn’t hear everything the girls said to each other. It was entirely within the realm of possibility for Trixie to have declared herself President of Mars around Rory during one of their play sessions.

But it wasn’t just Mars. Rory went on to explain every single patch she’d selected for their matching jackets. Some Chloe understood. The teddy bear, the old fashioned airplane, and the white wings represented Rory. The crossed knives was for both girls and the tutelage they received from Maze (used to receive? But Maze hadn’t taught Rory how to use a knife yet; not since the girl had been staying with them) while the Mars landscape, of course, was just for Trixie. Then, there were a few random choices that Rory explained as ‘That one was pretty’ or ‘None of the other ones fit there.’

And then there were patches deliberately picked out for Trixie that Chloe didn’t understand at all. The Live Love Life patch was incredibly generic. The unicorn was cute, but also not special. Unless it was a very new obsession, Trixie wasn’t particularly interested in unicorns, and she had never, ever paid attention to the Live Love Life trend that was so popular amongst adults on Pinterest. Yet, Rory seemed certain they meant something to Trixie.

Then, the girl pointed to a patch displaying an orange convertible driving into a sunset and said, “It’s not sparkly like Princess Marmalade, but she still drives really fast!”

“Uh oh,” Dan said, teasingly. “I hope Trixie’s not expecting a fancy convertible for her sixteenth birthday.”

Rory nodded. “Oh yeah, Princess Marmalade is really fancy.”

Lucifer scrunched his nose in disgust. “Ugh, your daughter would be someone who names their car ‘Princess Marmalade.’”

“Are you buying her the car, then?” Dan asked. “Cause I’m not letting her drive in LA traffic until she’s twenty-five. People are crazy around here.”

“Twenty-five? They let you drink in this corner of the world at twenty-one.”

“Good point.” Dan nodded. “Gotta let her get that out of her system first. Thirty, then.”

Chloe ignored Lucifer’s snarky rebuttal and leaned down to talk to Rory. “Did Trixie tell you about her dream car that she hopes to get one day?”

Rory gave her an innocently perplexed look. “No, it’s her real car, Mommy.”

Mommy. Mommy. Mommy. Mommy.

The DNA results couldn’t be right. Even if impossible was possible in the celestial world, that still couldn’t make Rory h—

Really… just because she’d called her Mommy since day one and just because the girl seemed to know things about Trixie, about all of them, that she shouldn’t know…. After all, not all of those things were accurate. Trixie didn’t drive and she certainly didn’t have an orange convertible that sparkled. Rory’s cousin Charlie was not Linda and Amenadiel’s child. Chloe was not Rory’s mother. She had never given birth to her, had never had any relationship with Lucifer that could’ve made that a possibility, and she had never taught Rory to recite her address and phone number. The girl’s mother had done that — her real mother. The rest was the confusion of a lost child.

Some indeterminable time later, Lucifer packed up the shopping bags and took Rory home. Dan returned to his desk, saying he’d texted her the photos of the fashion show. Shakily, Chloe pulled out her phone and, finally alone, flipped through them.

There was nothing to find in the pictures. Rory’s resemblance to Lucifer had been obvious from the start. There was no need to look deeper to see their connection. Rory’s connection to her mother, though, was harder to spot, especially when they didn’t even know who her mother was. As a result, there were no clues to be found in Rory’s pictures.

Chloe shouldn’t need any clues. If she was truly Rory’s mother, she would already know it, deep in her bones. She wouldn’t be panicking and entertaining these crazy thoughts. She would just know that Rory was her daughter.

They didn’t look anything alike. Maybe there was something in the shape of her eyes… or her ears? But that was a stretch. If Rory looked like anyone, it was Trixie, but that was just a coincidence in their coloring. Rory’s hair was darker, her skin lighter, but their eyes were the exact same shade. That’s why they looked like they could be sisters. It was just a coincidence.

With Trixie, it was always easier to see Chloe’s traits in her actions rather than her looks. Trixie’s practical approach to problems, her maturity. It made those flashes of anger, that impulse for revenge when her internal moral compass was crossed, run hotter. Chloe’s father had had to coach her on how to channel that anger, and she was trying to teach the same to Trixie, to help her understand that while it was sometimes justified, you couldn’t always punch the bully, no matter how much you wanted to.

But Trixie was a lot sneakier than Chloe had ever been as a kid which made raising her more challenging. And when she grew old enough to lie, she lied the same way Dan did: stone-cold and with a straight face. The lack of emotion was her tell, actually, because she was always so expressive otherwise. Chloe could still remember the Barbie incident and little, freshly-turned-five year old Trixie calmly and repeatedly stating that she had no idea how the Barbies scraped up the wall. They flew through the air all by themselves, Mommy.

Rory lied like her.

Chloe’s breath caught in her throat as she realized this. It wasn’t because Rory lied at all when Lucifer always told some version of the truth. No, it was the way that Rory lied that mirrored Chloe. She lied like she was embodying a role with her entire soul. She was no more or less expressive as she spun a story into the unimpeachable truth. Rory lied like an actress.

How many times? How many times had Chloe done the same to get out of an audition or an uncomfortable meeting that would do nothing but put her name in front of the ‘right’ people? How many times had her mother scolded her and lamented that if she would just put the same effort into her acting as she did her lies, then her career would be unstoppable?

How many other similarities had Chloe missed, too distracted by Rory’s physical similarities to Lucifer, too ignorant to the possibility she could have a daughter from….

From where? It was still impossible for Rory to be her daughter. Surely, even by celestial standards, that was impossible. So then, what would make it possible? What impossible explanation fit the evidence?

As the daughter of a sci-fi actress, two came to mind. One she instantly dismissed. Based on the fate of Lucifer’s mother, alternate Earths didn’t exist. There was only this Earth, this life. Each decision was set in stone and didn’t spin up a parallel universe like some people theorized. Other universes had to be built from scratch. If Rory was from one of those other universes, then she couldn’t be Chloe’s daughter.

Time travel. That was the impossible explanation that would make this possible.

Rory knew Chloe’s apartment, her phone number, her name — even before meeting her. She knew every house rule Chloe had ever implemented for Trixie without being told. She preferred her food cut the same way Chloe had cut it for Trixie. Her favorite toy was from Trixie’s collection — a toy Chloe hadn’t even remembered her daughter owned.

Even the contradictions slotted neatly into this explanation. Rory had accused Maze of stealing her bedroom that first night because Maze would move out before Rory was born. Trixie was shorter than Rory believed she should be because Trixie would be taller and older in the future. Old enough to drive a sparkly orange convertible.

It was still impossible, still not logical — but the evidence added up. It wasn’t some mysterious, as-yet-undiscovered mother that had raised Rory. It had been her. Chloe was her mother.

Chloe drove home in a daze. (No, not home: Lucifer’s, but it felt nearly the same after two weeks.) The road didn’t register. Muscle memory filled in the gaps. Rory might be hers. Her impossible daughter. Not just Lucifer’s.

Hers.

Unruly chaos greeted her as soon as the elevator opened into the penthouse.

“Infant!”

Lucifer intercepted Rory’s sprint towards the balcony. The girl planted her new combat boots and pivoted back the other way. He pursued, chasing her behind the back of the couch and around to the front, but Rory pulled herself up on the cushions and grinned like she’d reached home base. Lucifer halted.

“Hand it over,” he commanded, but Rory just giggled.

“Lucifer?” Chloe asked.

“Look, the Detective’s here,” Lucifer said. “Now, you’ll behave, won’t you?”

Rory peeked over the back of the couch and waved a marker-stained hand. “Hi, Mommy.”

Chloe’s heart skipped a beat.

Lucifer lunged forward. “Give it!” But Rory spun away at the last moment and scooted herself to the other end of the couch. “Damn it, infant. At least put the cap back on!”

“Lucifer, can angels time travel?” Chloe asked.

He did a double-take and frowned. “What?”

“Can angels time travel?”

“Of course not. That’s ridiculous — Infant!” he growled as Rory used his distraction to slip off the couch and sprint across the room again. “Get back here!”

Obviously, it was ridiculous. Chloe already knew it was ridiculous and impossible and completely fucking insane. That wasn’t her point.

“But can they move through time in some other way?” she pressed. “Manipulate it to move backwards?”

“Manipulate?” Lucifer struggled to focus as he chased after Rory. “I don’t know.”

“But can they?”

Rory retreated to the couch again and tucked both hands behind her back. Without taking his eyes off the girl, Lucifer answered, “Amenadiel could slow time, but he can’t do it anymore.”

Her heart pounded. So, it was possible. If one angel could manipulate time, then it was entirely feasible that another one could too.

“Can anyone else?”

“No, it’s just Amenadiel with that power.”

Lucifer reached out again for the marker, but Rory pressed herself deeper into the couch.

“What about a new angel?”

Rory dodged Lucifer’s arm and bolted to her feet. She ran along the seat cushions to get away from him.

“No, don’t run on the couch!” Lucifer chased after her.

“Lucifer!”

“I’m a little preoccupied here, Detective,” Lucifer replied with a huff. “Can we save the angel Q&A for later?”

But he didn’t understand. This couldn’t wait for later. This couldn’t wait another second. “A new angel would have a new power, right? If you’re each supposed to be unique.”

“Why are you— No!”

Rory giggled and hopped back up on the couch. Lucifer stalked forward, and the girl backpedaled another cushion-length away. She stumbled slightly on the uneven surface and gripped the back of the couch to steady herself. Lucifer lunged towards her again for reasons that had nothing to do with the marker.

“What part of you can bruise and bleed do you not understand?” he scolded. “Stop running on the couch!”

Rory ducked beneath his arm and quick-stepped her little feet down the entire length of the couch again, squealing in delight.

“Rory, I mean it!”

“Aurora Morningstar, sit down!” Chloe finally snapped.

Abruptly, the giggles cut off into silence. Rory dropped to her butt and crossed her arms in a deep pout.

“Sorry, Mommy,” she mumbled.

Oh god, it’s true. It’s all true.

Her shout continued to hang in the air. The room was too fragile for a daydreamed name to be real, and so it froze, unsure where to go.

Lucifer slowly straightened. When Rory didn’t budge from her pout, he turned his stare to Chloe. “What just happened?”

Chloe couldn’t find the words to reply. Rory had gone from abandoned toddler to time-breaking impossibility in the span of a few hours, and Chloe didn’t understand how.

“Was that the mum voice?” Lucifer continued. “I heard it held such power, but I’ve never seen it in action.”

Through syrup, Chloe said, “Mom voice plus full name. Works every time.”

Worked until the age of ten, at least, as Trixie was learning new ways to argue and talk back every week. But at three? Oh, it was the voice of god at the age of three.

Or just shy of it in this case.

“When did she tell you her full name?” Lucifer said. “I never thought to ask if Rory was short for anything.”

“She didn’t.”

“Then, how did you know her name was Aurora?”

Slowly, Chloe dragged her eyes away from Rory. “Because I named her.”

Confusion furrowed Lucifer’s face into a frown. “What are you talking about?”

The stack of folders from Ella’s office felt heavy in her arms. She dropped them on the bar and handed Lucifer the top file.

“Rory’s results are back.”

The confusion lifted into wariness. “And they pinged a missing person’s report this time? We know who her mother is?”

“They say the same thing.”

“The same… as the first test?” Lucifer opened the folder, and the frown returned. “They’re wrong again?” Frustrated, he snapped the folder shut. “Ella assured me the machines were working this time. I can’t believe this!”

“Trixie is her sister.”

Lucifer paused.

“Half-sister,” Chloe said. “It says in the file.”

“Well… but if the machines are wrong, then….”

A large ottoman still sat in front of the couch: a remnant from the last blanket fort they’d made. Chloe sat down on it and watched Rory — watched her daughter. Her pink striped pigtails were still in tact, despite the running, though her jacket was long gone. Her coral pink muscle shirt did its job. With her arms crossed, her little toddler muscles were on full display as her tiny magenta combat boots tapped impatiently against each other. As Chloe’s silence continued, Rory grumpily slumped further down on the couch. Then, she dropped a hand down to pinch the cushion over and over again, too mad to stay still.

Trixie never moved during her time outs, no matter how angry she was — but Chloe had. Oh, Chloe had squirmed all the way through middle school whenever she’d gotten in trouble, unable to contain her frustration at the injustice of it all.

“They’re not sisters,” Lucifer argued. “The results are wrong.”

“They’re not wrong.”

“Of course, they are. You and I have never had—“ Lucifer stopped. “Time travel?”

Chloe nodded.

“You think she time travelled. You think… she’s from the future? How?”

“It’s the only explanation that fits,” Chloe said.

Unsurprisingly, Lucifer tried to reject this. “But nobody can time travel. That’s impossible.”

“You said that about baby angels, too.”

That got him. Lucifer fell silent as he likely ran through every piece of evidence Chloe had already examined. She heard the opening of other folders and the rustling of paper, but she couldn’t pull her eyes away from Rory. The little girl looked like the most wronged pink badass in all the world. But who was she trying to be a badass for? Maze? She constantly gushed about her Auntie Maze and all the cool stuff they did together in the future.

Minutes, or perhaps hours, later, Lucifer sank down beside her on the ottoman. He stared at Rory too, still not saying a word. When Rory glanced up and realized they were both watching her now, she whined and twisted herself flat on the couch so she could bury her face against the cushion. It was a very three year old ‘if I can’t see you, you can’t see me’ maneuver, and Chloe’s heart ached over how young and innocent her little girl was.

“I don’t understand,” Lucifer said.

“Yeah.” Chloe scoffed. “Me either.”

Another moment passed and then Lucifer asked, “You named her Aurora?”

Chloe clenched her hands into fists. The sharp pain of her nails digging into her skin did a poor job of grounding her. “I’ve had the name picked out for ages. Trixie couldn’t have been much older than this.”

There’d been no special meaning to it, no rhyme or reason. She’d simply heard the name one day and fell in love with it. When she and Dan were discussing whether they wanted a second child some day, she kept Aurora in the back of her mind in case they ended up with another daughter. But they’d both had enough on their plates with their careers and Trixie, and then they were separated and then divorced. Aurora had remained just a name.

“What did you choose for her middle name?” Lucifer asked.

“I….” Chloe stumbled to remain present. “I didn’t. I never had a second daughter. I never needed a middle name.”

She wanted to run. Just like she had the first time she’d seen the girl’s angel wings. Run into the elevator, run out of Lux, run far, far away. Much farther away than across town this time because this couldn’t be real. None of this could be real. She didn’t have a second daughter, let alone a daughter with Lucifer.

“It’s Jane, then.”

Chloe shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t have named her after myself.” She didn’t know anything about this future Rory was from or how it could even exist, but she knew herself well enough to know that.

“No,” Lucifer said. “But I would have.”

Chloe stared. Slowly, Lucifer turned. His dark brown eyes met hers, and she became lost in their depths.

“People do that, don’t they?” Lucifer said. “When one parent chooses the first name, the other chooses the middle name.”

“Sometimes.”

“So,” he continued, “if you chose Aurora, then I would’ve chosen Jane.”

Chloe said, “You called my middle name boring.”

“Impossibly boring,” Lucifer corrected. “And there’s no one else I would’ve named her after.”

Time suspended itself just like it had the day she’d kissed him. They weren’t in the penthouse or on a beach or anywhere anymore. The world retreated until it blurred and it was just the two of them, all alone, and when Lucifer gave her the same sad, little smile he had that day, it squeezed her chest the same way.

“Aurora Jane Morningstar,” Chloe said just to hear the name out loud. It fit in ways she couldn’t describe.

Rory peeled one bitter eye off the couch. “I said I’m sorry, Mommy.”

Grief sliced through Chloe’s chest, and time kicked forward again. “Oh, Rory.”

She flew to the couch and scooped her daughter into a hug. Rory started crying — the fake tears for attention and not real ones, but Chloe murmured comfort to her anyway. It wasn’t about running on the couch or markers with no lids. None of that stuff mattered anymore. Chloe was apologizing for the last two weeks of confusion and chaos her little girl had been through. “It’s okay, baby. Mommy and Daddy have been confused for awhile, but it’s going to be okay.”

Lucifer looked as broken as she felt when their eyes met again. “How?” he asked.

Chloe gave a disbelieving laugh. “Two weeks ago, I didn’t even think angels were real.”

“Right. Wrong question.”

Rory curled more tightly into her chest, and her heart split again. “What do we do now?” she asked.

Slowly, Lucifer shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Chapter Text

Rory squinted against the white, swirling light. Slowly, it faded into less blinding sunlight. She blinked and let her eyes adjust to the new surroundings. She stood higher than ground level, but the better view didn’t help her recognize the line of buildings across the street. They seemed both too tall and too short all at once, but maybe that was the disorientation from travelling through time.

Turning around, the disorientation snapped into firm recognition as she realized she stood on a very familiar balcony. It was home, or close to it. This was her mother’s old apartment building from back when the neighborhood was still purely residential. Rory did remember the houses across the street, then, or at least some of them. This was how the street had looked when she’d been a kid, but things had changed so much over the following decades. The brown apartment building down the street had been replaced with a laundromat. The townhouse to the left had been remodeled into a locally-owned grocery store. They’d all been useful changes, part of an early attempt to make LA more walkable, but changes none the less.

Rory had never questioned which buildings were replaced exactly because the changes were so useful. Now, though, she had to wonder: had it really been chance that their apartment building remained while the rest of the neighborhood shifted around them or had someone planned ahead to protect the building the same way he’d planned for her first car and trust fun? How much had Lucifer done even when he’d been away in Hell?

It was this unanswered question that had driven Rory back here. Nearly a century after learning the truth, her parents were still reluctant to tell her about all the plans they’d made together or the pain they’d shared from afar. Rory had asked them to put the safety of every soul in Hell over a few years of personal happiness, and her parents had obliged — but not without some extra sacrifices.

She hadn’t seen it as ‘extra’ at the time. For her, it was the past, the sacrifices had already been made, but for her parents….

Rory didn’t regret her request, per se. But the problem with being an angel — even a mortal angel — was it gave a person too much time to think. To wonder. To realize the saying ‘time heals all wounds’ was bullshit. The truth could heal, sure. All of Rory’s anger and hurt had evaporated the moment she’d realized she was responsible for her father not being there to raise her. But time? No, time didn’t do shit. Time was just a mask that might eventually hide the ache in Lucifer’s eyes each time he looked at her baby pictures or erase the shadow in his smile as he pulled out a recording of her performing in the third grade play, something she knew — she knew — he’d already watched a hundred thousand times and that was rounding down.

(That her father had had these pictures and videos the entire time, that he’d watched and rewatched them for centuries before the next batch came down from Earth while Rory hated him for not caring — that didn’t make her regret anything. But realizing her mother had taken those pictures and videos with the intention to send them to Lucifer all while Rory snapped at any mention of how proud her father would be of her — that sometimes sent Rory flying to a remote cliffside to scream into the wind until her voice was gone.)

(She didn’t regret, but the double life her mother had had to live was dizzying.)

So, yeah. Time was a mask, not a healer, and sometimes… sometimes Rory wondered if it could’ve gone differently. If there had been any chance of Lucifer realizing he could help the souls caught in Hell without them sacrificing a happy family life on Earth. And after thinking about it a lot more (a hell of a lot more) than she’d ever admit to anyone, she’d concluded, no. No, they couldn’t have done anything differently without damning billions of people to suffer for eternity. Not in the time loop anyway. It was a time loop: life on rails with no off-ramp. No way to change it.

But… but….

Rory hadn’t time travelled since the day her mother died. It had been a one way trip to the past and back to fulfill the time loop. Charlie had since hypothesized Rory would self-actualize a new power then, something that would be more permanent. He mused since time travel was so chaotic and potentially destabilizing, then it couldn’t be a power Rory could easily access. Maybe Rory hadn’t even self-actualized the ability to time travel at all. Maybe the ability had come from the universe instead.

Personally, Rory thought Charlie needed to stop playing philosopher so much. Then again, his parents were a psychologist and the most philosophical angel to ever exist (who was also, oh right, God as Rory now knew), so what choice did he have? He’d been screwed from birth.

Rory preferred action and concrete facts over hazy what-ifs. Fact 1: she could time travel. Fact 2: she hadn’t time travelled since the time loop caught up to itself. These two facts were not contradictory. She had self-actualized the ability to time travel; it’s just having an ability and having control over the ability were two different things. Self-actualization was a bitch, and God the Original hadn’t seen fit to provide them with an instruction manual. But if her father could figure it out, then she could.

(That wasn’t spite like it would’ve been before the time loop. Just pure, honest competitiveness.)

During one of those long nights of thinking too hard about the things she definitely didn’t regret but no longer fully believed in either, Rory noticed the similarity between her power and Lucifer’s. Specifically, that she had wanted to confront Lucifer when she travelled to the past. She’d always assumed her anger had triggered the trip because that had been her strongest emotion, but anger never got her home. Choosing to uphold the time loop, knowing that’s what she wanted, was what finally sent her home. The connection was so obvious once she noticed it. She was her father’s daughter, after all. Her wings started out white like his. Why wouldn’t their powers share a common link, too?

Just to be sure, she did some tests (in secret, alone). The anger was gone, so she focused on specific dates: May 3, 2040; February 28, 2010; October 13, 1987. None of them worked. Today, though, she hadn’t held a date in mind. Not a location either. She’d simply concentrated on what she desired: the chance to tell her younger self about time travel. If she could manifest the ability before her mother was dying, then the time loop would be broken. The timeline might be able to change.

If it’s possible to break the time loop, let me have the choice to do it.

And here she was at her mother’s old apartment, seemingly in the right era. She just had to confirm it. Maybe peek in the windows and check her childhood bedroom for the decor? Definitely don’t run into her mother. Rory wasn’t here to change anything. She was just here to give her younger self the chance to change things.

“Uh oh,” said a very young and mischievous voice.

Rory flinched. Cautiously, she turned around — and found her younger self standing just outside the front door of their apartment.

Her much, much younger self.

“Oh shit.” Rory wracked her memory for her past self’s age. Younger than kindergarten, for sure. Her hair was too long to be two. Three, then? Maybe four? Rory couldn’t narrow it down more than that, but her past self was young, far too young. How was she supposed to explain time travel to a toddler?

The toddler raised her hand and waved. She clutched a towel far larger than she was and wore a cutesy bathing suit that Rory didn’t recognize but assumed she must have owned at some point since she was staring right at it.

“Hi,” Rory said awkwardly. She pointed at the towel. “Beach day, huh?”

The toddler happily nodded. That meant Chloe would be home. Rory needed to be careful.

“Come here,” she whispered and squatted down out of sight of the windows. Her toddler self walked over readily, and Rory wondered if this was too much confidence in having wings and demon-taught self defense skills or if the toddler could recognize they were the same person. Knowing herself, it was the former.

“I’ve got a secret for you.”

The toddler pointed at her face. “You’re pretty.”

Rory burst out laughing and then clamped her mouth together to stifle it. No one came to the door.

“Uh, thanks,” Rory said. “You are too.”

“I know,” the toddler said.

“No, I don’t have an ego, what are you talking about?” Rory mumbled to herself. Then, to her other self, she said, “You’re supposed to say thank you, but whatever.”

“Oh. Thank you!” the toddler said with a cocky grin.

“God dammit, Mom had fun raising me, didn’t she?” Rory shook her head. “Anyway, do you want the secret before your mom comes out here looking for you?”

“What secret?”

“Well first, I’m from the future,” Rory began.

The toddler narrowed her eyes.

“I am, too,” Rory replied to the unspoken skepticism. “And the secret is: if you want to change something, you can.”

The toddler continued to squint at her.

“Do you… understand?” Rory asked. “If you see something that you don’t like, you can change it.”

This seemed like the best way to explain without outright interfering with the timeline. Explicitly stating she could time travel seemed too direct (and utterly pointless to tell a three or four year old – had she even known what time travel was at that age?). But saying ‘you can change something you don’t like’ also seemed way too vague for a toddler to grasp.

“Okay,” the toddler said.

Rory was surprised. “Okay? You get it?”

“Are you an angel?” the toddler asked.

“Um, yeah.” She flicked her eyes to the front door. A voice was calling from inside, and while she couldn’t hear what it was saying, she could guess they were looking for her toddler self. “But you can’t tell anyone about me, okay?”

The toddler raised her finger to lips. “Shh.”

“Yeah, shh. I’m a secret too, okay? That’s two secrets for the price of one. Good job!”

The toddler giggled while Rory mentally smacked herself in the face for devolving into that stupid voice everyone used to talk to small children. She was talking to her own self! There was no need for the voice.

But her past self loved it. She held her fingers to her lips again in another shush, and then said proudly, “I keep lots of secrets.”

“Not nearly as many as your parents,” Rory muttered. Speaking of, the front door finally opened. As the toddler turned around to look, Rory flicked out her wings and darted for the roof.

“Rory!” It was Trixie who had come outside. “Mom, I found her!”

Rory carefully peered over the edge of the roof as Chloe joined them on the landing. Everyone looked so young. Trixie, especially. Chloe usually chose to appear the age she was when she’d last seen Lucifer so her appearance really wasn’t different to what Rory was now used to, but Trixie never chose to look anywhere close to her teen years. Most people in the afterlife didn’t, but having her world turned upside down about five times at the end of middle school sure made those high school years extra sucky.

They were kids. Teeny, tiny kids.

Chloe finished scolding Rory’s toddler self for leaving the house without them and then scooped her up so they could head out to the beach. Trixie carried their bags and joked as they walked down the stairs to the car. It was a happy, carefree day for them. Even the toddler sneaking outside alone was simply Rory being Rory and not a real problem.

They’d had a lot of happy days. And they had a lot more in front of them. Time didn’t change that either.

That’s good, Rory thought as her toddler self snuck a wave to her up on the roof. It’s good we can’t change the time loop. It wasn’t all painful.

Because she was certain the experiment had failed. Her younger self was too young, Rory had been forced to be too vague. Nothing was going to change from this, and that was okay. At least, she was one step closer to controlling her power.

The swirling lights returned to bring her home.

Yeah. They were okay.

Once, a long time ago, someone attempted to drown Lucifer for being the Devil. Ironic, wasn’t it? And two hundred years before all the witch hunts began, so a trendsetter too. Of course, the person regretted being right as soon as they saw his eyes blaze red. They certainly regretted it when they found themselves in Hell a mere decade later.

That evening felt like drowning. Slowly. Over and over. Exhale: confusion, fog. Inhale: choking, terror.

Rory was from the future. That’s why there were no birth records, no missing person reports. In 2018, Rory didn’t exist. But in the future….

Chloe couldn’t stop touching her: adjusting a strand of hair as Rory told a meandering story, resting a hand on her arm while Rory showed off her magenta boots for the twentieth time. When Rory ran off to another room, Chloe followed right after her, always keeping the girl in sight.

It was disbelief. The same force that kept Lucifer at a distance was what tugged Chloe forward. They’d known for two weeks that Rory was his daughter. They’d only known she was Chloe’s for two hours.

Dinner was completed on autopilot which suited the three year old with the picky palette just fine. No creativity, no nudges to try something new. Just her tried and true favorites with a prepackaged brownie for dessert. They were lucky they didn’t have Trixie that night. A three year old didn’t notice their distracted silence, but a viciously clever ten year old would have.

Chloe supervised tonight’s bath, but Rory requested Lucifer for her bedtime story. It was like she was splitting the duties for them. If Mommy did this, then Daddy should do that. Maybe it was exactly that simple in her mind. Maybe everything was. Where they were both drowning in disbelief, to Rory this was matter of course. She used to be in the future with one parent, now she was in the past with two. Simple.

“I love you, Rory.” Chloe leaned over and gave the drowsing girl a kiss. With a shaky breath, she stood up.

Lucifer lingered for another second. Rory was swiftly falling into a deep sleep and wouldn’t notice if he said goodnight or not, which was why he felt safe enough to reach forward and gently stroke the tiny hand holding her stuffed bear in place.

“Goodnight,” he breathed.

He followed Chloe into the hall. For the first time since learning the truth, they were alone. Silence reigned. Neither of them moved. They should talk about this, Lucifer knew they should talk about this, but the air grew impossibly thick every time he tried to speak.

Finally, Chloe said, “I can’t believe it.”

“No.” Lucifer couldn’t believe it either. Of all the possible explanations for a baby angel, he never saw this one coming.

“I—“

Chloe cut herself off with a shake of her head. She paced into the living room, and Lucifer trailed after her. He searched again for something to say, but the only words he could find through the rolling waves of muted fear was ‘I’m sorry’ repeated on loop. Sorry she’d been dragged into this mess. Sorry that she’d never had a choice. Sorry for everything his father had already done and everything Lucifer would do in the upcoming years.

“I left her.”

Lucifer startled. Then, frowned. Chloe’s voice grew stronger as she repeated, “I left my daughter.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“You weren’t the one who left Rory at the precinct,” Lucifer said. “She time travelled, Detective. She brought herself here.”

“But I still left her,” Chloe said. “I ran out on her that very first night she was here. Me. I did that.”

Technically, that was true, but she had the meaning all jumbled up. “You ran away from me,” he pointed out. “It was my wings that scared you off.”

“I ran from both of you.” Tears sprang into Chloe’s eyes. “I left Rory terrified and alone without any explanation. I abandoned my own daughter when she needed me the most.”

Anger flared in his chest, finally breaking the seal of that numbing disbelief. “You did not abandon her,” Lucifer said firmly.

“She cried for an entire day and almost made herself sick!” Chloe said. “All because I left her, because I couldn’t see—“

“See what? That time travel is real?” Lucifer scoffed. “Detective, none of us knew that was possible. You have nothing to feel guilty about.”

“But I left her.”

“No, I left her!” Lucifer shouted. “Our daughter didn’t recognize me!”

How interesting. The words flew out without effort this time when before he’d struggled to call Rory ‘my daughter’. Even when all the evidence screamed it was true, the words had always felt wrong. But ‘our daughter’ came out so easily, Lucifer was shocked it had taken them two weeks to realize it. Of course, Rory belonged to Chloe. Of course, if he had a daughter, it would be with Chloe. Of course.

And of course, he would leave them. Chloe might have forgotten this fact — and clearly she had judging by her abrupt silence — but Lucifer hadn’t. Rory hadn’t recognized him that first day. In fact, she’d screamed and cried when she’d seen him. That was understandable when she was a daughter he had never met, but when she was from the future — well, that painted a very different picture.

Weakly, Chloe said, “She… was confused.”

“She’s never been confused. That’s what we just learned tonight,” Lucifer reminded her. “When Rory first saw me, she thought I was my twin brother — an insult in any situation, I assure you, but that our daughter thought it was more likely that I was Michael….” He shook his head. “No, Detective, obviously you are not the parent that abandoned her.”

He marched over to the bar and grabbed a glass. His hands shook too much to pour the whiskey, and it sloshed onto the countertop.

From behind him, Chloe said, “I don’t believe that.”

“Belief doesn’t change the truth.”

“We don’t know that’s the truth.”

Lucifer spun around. “She knew who you were right away. She didn’t know me. That seems pretty cut and dry, Detective!”

“You didn’t abandon her,” Chloe argued. “You could’ve walked away from her anytime in the last two weeks, but you didn’t.”

“That was when we thought I was the only one who could take care of a baby angel!”

“That is not why!” Chloe said. “You want to be there for Rory. You worry about her every second of the day. There is no way you left her.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes and returned to his whiskey. The Detective worked on homicide cases, and yet she still believed how people felt dictated their actions? Of course, it didn’t. How he felt about Rory had nothing to do with the irrefutable fact that, in the future, he’d played no role in their daughter’s life. She had never met him until she time travelled.

“And I know I would’ve told you about her,” Chloe continued. “I wouldn’t have kept her hidden. Whatever our relationship was, I would want you to be there for Rory.”

“What you want?” Lucifer scoffed. “What does it matter what you want? I’m the Devil, remember? I only do what I want.”

“And you’d want to be there for her too.”

Lucifer slammed his glass on the bar. “No, what I wanted was to never be a father!”

Chloe recoiled and for a terrifying second, he wondered if his Devil face had suddenly returned. But no, it was just the force of his words and the anger behind them that had startled her. Chloe stared at him for a long, long moment, her eyes searching his for answers she wanted but would never find. Around them, the world disintegrated, obliterated into dust. It was another point of no return in their relationship, and Lucifer was driving them down the path of destruction. But he’d already done that in the future, hadn’t he? So, what did it matter if he did it again.

Without a word, Lucifer turned back to the bar. He nursed his drink in cold silence until Chloe finally gave up and walked off down the hallway. Most likely, she wanted to check on Rory to ensure his shouting hadn’t woken her. Lucifer downed the rest of his glass and then poured another.

He fled to the balcony. Outside, the evening’s chill provided a welcomed counterpoint to the weight in his chest. He allowed it to wash over him as he stared out at the city’s sea of lights and buildings without seeing any of it.

Their daughter. Together, they had a daughter. And he’d wrecked them both. It was obvious to him that Chloe was drawing the wrong conclusions. Lucifer hadn’t been there for the first three years of Rory’s life, and he no longer had the convenient excuse that he didn’t know she existed to hide behind. Because yes, Chloe would’ve told him about their daughter. She was far too good and honorable to not. And she hadn’t chosen to leave him because Amenadiel and Maze were still in Rory’s life. She knew them. She had cutesy names for them. Rory even trained with Maze. So no, Chloe hadn’t cut Lucifer out of their lives. He must have walked out on them by his own choice. He was the only one to blame.

Chapter Text

The next morning started early and with an unintentional knee to her ribs. Chloe winced and shifted her head back to find Rory’s deep, brown eyes staring down at her.

“Good morning, monkey.” Gently, she caressed her daughter’s cheek. This was her youngest daughter: her new baby girl born in the future.

Rory’s alertness deepened into pure glee. “I want to watch Fringe!” she declared before abruptly bounding over to the edge of the bed.

“Bathroom and breakfast first,” Chloe reminded her, like she had to remind her every morning. And like every morning, the reminder went ignored in favor of a giggling game of chase that woke her up faster than any cup of coffee.

Chloe got them both dressed and then herded Rory into the kitchen where Lucifer was already setting up for breakfast. He prepared Rory’s while Chloe prepared her own. It was a routine they’d established over the last two weeks, one that was comfortable, simple, and satisfyingly domestic.

And a slap in the face today. While Chloe could still laugh and play with Rory, tension hung tautly between her and Lucifer. She honestly didn’t know if she wanted to shout at him for last night, or if she wanted to beg and plead with him that he was wrong, that they both were, that none of this was true.

But then she would look at Rory again and see her clever little grin or the way her hair around her face was damp and curling in on itself because Rory had splashed her hands in the sink, and all Chloe wanted was for it to be true. She loved this toddling little miracle more than she loved anyone besides Trixie, and she didn’t have to pretend she didn’t anymore because Rory was hers. Not just Lucifer’s. Theirs. Which gave Chloe just as much claim to the girl.

More so in Lucifer’s eyes. Chloe wanted his assertions from last night to just be denial. She’d laid awake in bed for hours, pulling up every argument she could think of to prove he was wrong, that he hadn’t abandoned them in the future. And just as she became convinced she was right, her mind would point out how Lucifer had already walked out of her life, not once, not twice, but multiple times before. Each time leaving her high and dry with no explanations.

But that was to her. He’d walked out on her, not Rory. Leaving his daughter was different. Chloe had watched them grow closer over the last two weeks. She’d seen Lucifer play with Rory, protect her, talk and argue with her like they were equals. He was a good father. It just wasn’t possible for him to abandon Rory like that.

Except… except Rory hadn’t known who Lucifer was when she first arrived. That wasn’t Lucifer skewing the truth in his favor. It had really happened, and no matter how hard she tried, Chloe couldn’t explain it away.

Rory knew who Lucifer was. She just initially mistook him for his twin brother.

But how was that proof Lucifer hadn’t abandoned them in the future?

How was it proof that he had?

The doubts swirling through her mind kept her silent over breakfast. Lucifer’s walls stood just as high. Neither of them spoke to the other unless they had to for Rory’s sake.

Thankfully, Rory remained oblivious to the tense atmosphere. She ate half of her banana and two bites of toast before hopping off her stool.

“Where are you going? Rory!” Lucifer called out as their daughter darted out of the room. He turned an exasperated look over to Chloe, clearly expecting her to call Rory back. She was the only one who could reliably get Rory to listen. For two weeks, Chloe had found this amusing. Today, it made her stomach knot.

He can’t be right. He didn’t leave.

“Well?” Lucifer prompted.

Chloe shrugged. “She wants to watch Fringe.”

They didn’t need to force Rory to finish her breakfast. Early on, it had become clear that Rory was a grazer in the morning, always wanting something but rarely eating a full meal until lunch. She knew their daughter would be fine, but Lucifer either needed the excuse to leave the room or was genuinely concerned Rory would starve because he marched after her.

“Rory, you still have food on your plate!”

The last thing they needed this morning was Rory breaking into a tantrum. With a sigh, Chloe stood up. She followed the sound of Lucifer’s voice and muted thumps until she found Rory dragging every new article of clothing she could carry out of the bedroom.

Lucifer scolded, “Don’t drag them on the floor! Those aren’t from Target.” He lifted up the shirt tails trailing behind her.

“I want to finish showing Mommy,” Rory said. Then, their daughter spotted Chloe standing in the hall and added, “Mommy, I changed my mind, okay?”

“Okay,” Chloe said, mildly amused. Rory had already changed her mind three times when selecting which new shirt to wear this morning.

“Fine,” Lucifer said. “But just — let’s lay them out on the couch, yes? Not drag them all over the same floor you run around barefoot on.”

Laying out all of her new clothing wasn’t good enough. Rory needed to play dress up as well. She changed outfits over and over again, running to show Chloe each one. It kept Chloe long past the time she needed to leave for work, but she refused to cut Rory’s game short. She already felt like she’d lost so much time with her daughter just from ignorance, but then there were also those first three years that she knew nothing about. At least, not in this timeline. (And didn’t that scramble her brain a bit, that there was some future version of herself who’d been raising Rory.) Chloe’s heart ached to know every single detail about her daughter’s life.

So, she waited patiently through every ‘One more! One more!’, and she didn’t argue with the ‘No, I can do it’, allowing Rory to fumble her way through buttoning jeans or tugging her head free from an uncooperative shirt. Each time Rory succeeded, she grinned proudly and performed a silly, little dance. Chloe cheered along while wishing she could hug her daughter to her chest and never let go.

And then came a shirt that stumped her baby girl. Rory frowned down at the sleeves of her button down shirt and exclaimed, “Oh, no!”

“What’s wrong, monkey?”

“They’re broken!” The cuffs were unbuttoned, and Rory flapped the loose sleeves in frustration.

“It’s okay, I can button them.”

She reached out, but Rory twirled away and ran over to Lucifer.

“Daddy, they’re broken! Fix it.” She pouted and held up her sleeve for him. “Please, Daddy.”

Chloe didn’t know why Rory had run to Lucifer for this. If he truly wasn’t around in the future, if he’d truly left them, then shouldn’t Chloe be the default parent in Rory’s mind who fixed every catastrophe?

Lucifer, though, didn’t seem as puzzled. “Let’s see it, then,” he said and calmly knelt down before Rory. With precise care, he straightened out her sleeve and then crisply rolled it up to her elbow. He repeated the same for the other sleeve. Rory’s pout flipped into a grin.

Oh. Chloe’s heart seized. Because Daddy knew how to fix it without being told. That’s why Rory had run to him.

“There you are, imp. You want your vest with it?”

Rory nodded. “Yeah, I want my vest.”

So, Lucifer brought over a silver, sequined vest and helped her button it up. Rory giggled and turned around to pose. “Look Mommy, I’m fancy now.”

Chloe smiled. “You are. You look very fancy. Is that what you want to wear today?”

“Yeah, I’m wearing this.”

And as suddenly as the show-and-tell had started, it was over. Rory ran off to find her toys without another word, leaving Chloe and Lucifer alone. Slowly, they stood up. Lucifer’s eyes locked with hers. He seemed to want to speak, and Chloe had far too many words clawing at her throat. But she wasn’t ready to say any of them, so she forced her eyes away.

“Rory,” she called out. “I have to go to work now. Can I say goodbye?”

Obediently, Rory ran back over and gave Chloe a big hug. “Bye, Mommy. Be safe at work.”

Chloe hugged her tighter. “I will. I’ll be very safe,” she promised. She gave her a daughter a kiss. “You have fun today in your fancy outfit, okay?”

“Oh, I will,” Rory said with complete certainty. Chloe chuckled and kissed her again.

“Good. I love you, monkey.”

“I love you,” Rory said with a toothy grin. Then, she returned to her toys.

Chloe walked straight for the elevator. Lingering only ran the risk of Lucifer saying something, and she didn’t want to hear it. She firmly kept her back to him while she waited for the doors to open, but her resolve weakened once she was inside. Glancing back into the penthouse, she found Lucifer watching her. For a second, she couldn’t breathe. But then, the doors slid closed, cutting off the contact.

Chloe paced the car as she replayed his words from last night. Lucifer assumed he had it all figured out. He was so confident he had the answers now that they knew where Rory was from the future.

“No, I left her! Our daughter didn’t recognize me.”

But Rory did know who he was. And he knew their daughter too, well enough to understand what she wanted without asking. He hadn’t abandoned them. Chloe might be confused about everything else, but on that fact she was absolutely certain.

Amenadiel arrived at Linda’s office an hour before her first client of the day. It was an old routine, one they’d paused since Lucifer’s daughter had arrived, but he figured he’d revive it today. After all, coffee and a morning chat was the perfect way to celebrate the good news.

See, he had spent the last two weeks combing every archive and ancient record he could find, searching for any stray mention of an angel having a child with a human. When the records had (unsurprisingly) turned up nothing, he’d taken a risk and reached out to Zadkiel. Yes, the more siblings that had to visit Earth to speak with him, the more likely it was that someone would realize his wings were gone — but Amenadiel needed another perspective, and he trusted his brother. Zadkiel had always taken a hard stance against Lucifer — as was to be expected for the Angel of Righteousness — but he never gloated over Lucifer’s failures the way certain other siblings did.

Zadkiel had confirmed no one in Heaven knew how an angel child was created either, and that Remiel was, indeed, the first to sense the child’s presence. That didn’t explain why it had taken Remiel three years to notice the girl, but it was good to confirm there weren’t other secrets being kept in the Silver City.

“I have to admit, I didn’t expect Lucifer to defend the child,” Zadkiel said.

“He’s very protective. He’s been her primary guardian since she arrived. I don’t think he’s let her out of his sight,” Amenadiel said.

“Acting like a father would.”

“Yes,” Amenadiel confirmed. “Though, he doesn’t want to admit it.”

Zadkiel was thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe Father gave him the child, then, to teach him responsibility.”

That didn’t sit right with Amenadiel. Yes, Father had placed Chloe on Earth for some still unknown reason, but using a child to teach Lucifer responsibility seemed far-fetched. “Do you believe that’s what happened?”

Zadkiel gave another long pause before responding. “No. I don’t.”

“Then, where do you believe this child came from?”

“I believe the child is the unnatural, but expected, consequence of angels spending too much time around humans,” he said. “Humanity poisons and corrupts anything it touches, angels included.”

Amenadiel wouldn’t have used such harsh terms, but his own musings had led him to the same conclusion: Rory was a unique occurrence. A fluke.

Before Zadkiel left, he clapped Amenadiel on the shoulder. “No one blames you for the child existing, brother. I have full confidence that you’ll return Lucifer to Hell before humanity can corrupt you too.”

It would’ve been a welcomed statement if that had been Amenadiel’s primary concern or even his reason for continuing his stay on Earth. Still, his brother’s logic behind the words was sound. Amenadiel hadn’t visited Earth nearly as often or stayed nearly as long as Lucifer had. The chances that he could also end up with an angel child were as nonexistent as they should be.

Which was why he had a bounce in his step and a smile on his face as he reached Linda’s office. Linda answered the door and returned the smile when she saw him.

“Hi.”

“Good morning.” Amenadiel held up the drink tray in his hand. “I brought coffee.”

“Ah, then please, come in.”

Linda stepped back from the doorway to allow him inside, and he handed over her coffee. They settled comfortably, side-by-side, on the couch, both still smiling like it was impossible to stop. Two weeks ago, they also would’ve kissed hello. Maybe now, they could resume their budding relationship.

“So, you said you had some good news to share,” Linda said. “Would it happen to be about your new little angel niece?”

The word ‘niece’ still sounded incredible to Amenadiel’s ears. He had a niece. He was an uncle to a little three year old niece. Rory might be an anomaly, but she was also miraculous. There was still so much for her to learn as an angel, though. Between reading ancient texts, Amenadiel had planned list after list of things to teach her. And he must have sent Lucifer at least two dozen texts this week alone, asking if Rory had shown signs of flying yet. He never got a civil reply (if he received a reply at all) but he couldn’t stop his questions. Rory was the first of her kind. They had no benchmark for how quickly she would develop her angelic powers, but she already felt behind.

“It is about Rory, yes,” Amenadiel answered. “I believe we know where she came from.”

Linda gasped. “You found her mother. And good news means she’s alive? Alive and totally healthy?”

“Oh… um, no.”

“No, she’s dead or no, you didn’t find her?” Linda asked.

“I didn’t find Rory’s mother,” Amenadiel admitted. “I thought Lucifer was heading that search.”

“He is. He and Chloe are both searching, but you said you knew where Rory came from, so I just assumed.”

“No, I meant I learned how an angel child could exist in the first place.”

Linda nodded. “Okay. So, what did you learn?”

Amenadiel smiled. “She’s a fluke.”

“… a fluke.”

“A fluke that happened almost four years ago without any further repercussions or other angel children being born,” Amenadiel said, “despite Lucifer’s numerous sexual activities with humans.”

Linda stared at him in disbelief for a long second and then shook her head. “I’m sorry, how is that good news? I thought you said you learned where she came from. A random fluke isn’t an answer.”

“Well, she’s not completely random,” Amenadiel explained. “But the odds of a child are so infinitesimally small that she appears that way.”

“Okay… so, your explanation is Lucifer simply slept with so many humans, he finally impregnated one?”

Amenadiel tilted his head. “That’s one way to spend the required time around humans.”

“The required — what?” Linda said. “Wait, are there other ways for an angel to impregnate a human?” She looked alarmed like their coffee date could lead to pregnancy, so Amenadiel rushed to reassure her.

“No no, conception is a human thing. Sex would still be required to have a child.” He’d gotten ahead of himself in his excitement to explain. He started again. “An angel having sex can’t lead to a child on its own. But if an angel has spent enough time amongst humanity for it to change them, then a child becomes possible. But only Lucifer has spent that much time on Earth, which is why Rory is the only angel child in existence.”

It also proved that he and Linda had nothing to worry about, but Linda wasn’t so easily convinced.

“You’re saying spending time with humans has made Lucifer human enough to have a child,” she said. “But that doesn’t make sense. Wouldn’t all of his angel traits be more human? He’s only vulnerable when he’s around Chloe, not all the time.”

“That’s true,” Amenadiel said. “But that doesn’t necessarily mean other humans haven’t changed him too. There’s a reason angels never spend time on Earth. Eventually, humanity corrupts the divine.”

Linda arched her eyebrow. “Humanity corrupts the divine?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Are you saying I corrupt you?” Linda rose from the couch and paced over to her desk. Amenadiel hurriedly stood as well.

“No, we don’t have to worry about a pregnancy. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

Linda spun back to face him. “What’s wrong with humans?”

“Well, they’re not angels, but nothing’s wrong with humans, per se,” Amenadiel said. “I enjoy living on Earth now. Humans are great.”

He either should’ve specifically mentioned that Linda was great or provided a different answer entirely, because Linda clasped her hands together with the look he recognized as professional but annoyed. Neither were an emotion he’d hoped to see this morning.

“Look, Amenadiel,” she said. “This thing between us, our talks, our friendship, it’s all wonderful. The date we went on — the sex — amazing. But spending too much time on Earth is not an explanation for a baby angel. How much time is too much? What are the actual odds of an angel pregnancy? One in two million? A billion? And are the odds always that low or do you reach a point where your number’s just up and — boom! — now you have a baby! I mean, we don’t even know if Rory’s mother is alive right now which I, at least, am very concerned about. The girl has wings, remember? Wings!”

Amenadiel frowned. “What’s wrong with wings?”

“Nothing when they’re on angels,” Linda said. “But the human vagina is definitely not made to push out a baby with wings.”

“I don’t think her mother died in childbirth,” Amenadiel said. “Rory is three, not a newborn.”

“Until we know that for sure, it’s a terrifying possibility that’s keeping me up at night.” Linda sighed. “Just… please keep looking for an actual explanation. I’m not pregnant at the moment, and as much as I miss you too, I would really prefer to keep it that way.”

He was disappointed, but he understood her perspective. He still would’ve liked to stay and chat about other things before Linda’s work day started, but his phone buzzed with a text immediately followed by a second.

“Sorry.” He slipped his phone out and read the screen. The messages were from Lucifer.

You need to watch Rory.

My place NOW!

“It seems Lucifer is working a case with Chloe today.”

Linda was surprised. “He returned to work?”

“Apparently. He just asked me to watch Rory.” Amenadiel caught the full meaning of that and smiled. “I’m going to baby-sit my niece for the first time.”

Linda smiled too. “Think you’re prepared for that?”

“Oh, I don’t think a three year old will be much trouble. She is an angel, after all.” He was rewarded with a chuckle for his pun which stretched his grin wider. Before he left, he asked, “Would a hug still be okay?”

Linda playfully considered it. “Maybe we can risk a hug.”

They still kept it short. Linda teasingly pushed him away with a “Now, go before we do something we’ll both regret.” Amenadiel laughed, but he didn’t think it was possible for him to regret any time spent with Linda, even if they did manage to impossibly conceive a child. As he left her office, he turned his thoughts ahead to the angel child that did exist. Maybe he could test Rory’s angel skills while he watched her. He had some combat drills he could run her through. Had Lucifer flown with her at all yet? Humans held their children’s hands until they could walk by themselves. Taking the child flying would be crucial for her development.

His mind buzzed with possibilities as he headed for Lucifer’s.

Chloe walked through the precinct in a haze. People continually stopped her to gush over yesterday’s fashion show. (Had that just been yesterday? It felt like a million years ago.) Flora at the front desk…. Mike leaving the break room — Officer Mikey, as Rory called him, because she knew who he was in the future. Would he have another child too someday, one closer to Rory’s age? Did their children play together?

Everyone wanted to know if they’d be sharing pictures online and if Rory loved fashion as much as her father. (“She sure got his taste!”) One person even had the audacity to say Rory had a future in modeling and that Chloe should ask her mother for contacts.

(Her mother. What would her mother say about an angel grandchild? Did she even know?)

Chloe forced a smile, deflected questions, and pushed on to her desk as quickly as she could. Inside, though, she was screaming. She didn’t know what she would do if one more person stopped her.

And then Dan handed her a toy just before she could sit down. Rory had left it at his desk yesterday. Chloe’s chest constricted, and she inhaled sharply to stop the tears from forming. She had just discovered she had another daughter, and here she was at work like it was a normal day. But nothing was normal. Nothing had been normal for weeks.

“What’s wrong?” Dan asked.

“Nothing,” Chloe said automatically. She plastered on another smile. “Thank you, I’ll make sure Rory gets this back.”

To her surprise, Organized Crime did reach out about the Pillegi case she’d been forced to hand over, but it was just to ask if Frankie Ferrante had said anything about a drug operation expanding into the suburbs. Chloe emailed back to confirm the recorded interview was everything Frankie had said. Then, her eyes landed on a pile of pages stuck partially beneath her keyboard. She slid them out and flipped through them. It was the list of Lucifer’s flings from four years ago. That useless, useless list because Rory had never been born in the past. She came from the future. She would be Chloe and Lucifer’s daughter in the future.

Chloe stuffed the list into her trash can and fought to steady herself. This was all too big to comprehend. Certainly too big to even understand how she felt about it. Everything just felt… numb. Like she was swimming in the ocean of her consciousness with no hope of rescue.

This was crazy! She couldn’t have a daughter she’d never given birth to. Even by angel standards, time travel wasn’t possible.

But it must be possible someday because Rory already existed, and she was beautiful and perfect and so, so real. Everything about her daughter was heartbreakingly real, and Chloe wasn’t sure how to cope with that.

She needed to tell someone. She needed to say it out loud to get it outside of her head. But who could she talk to? Dan didn’t know angels existed, and she doubted he would handle that news well.

“Hey.”

Chloe startled. “Geez!”

“Sorry,” Ella said. “Except only a little sorry cause I’m still pissed about those DNA results.”

“What?”

“Did you ask Lucifer how he did it?”

Chloe’s mind still hadn’t caught up. “How he did what?”

“Screw with Rory’s DNA results! Did he just pay for the reports to be fudged or did he physically tamper with my machines? This is very important.”

The lies she’d told Ella about why the results said she was Rory’s mother filtered back through her mind. “Oh, right. Um, he paid for the reports. Your equipment is fine.”

Ella breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, thank goodness for that! Tell him he gets to live another day.” Then, she pointed a stern finger at Chloe. “For now.”

Chloe watched her walk back into the lab. No. She couldn’t share this news with Ella, either. Ella might believe in God, but explaining how angels were real and Lucifer was truly the Devil would be too much when Chloe needed to talk about Rory. Who did that leave, then? Definitely not her mother. Maze? She was at least up to speed on the celestial world, but Chloe wasn’t sure she’d be the sympathetic ear she needed right now.

Linda. Linda already knew Lucifer was the Devil and that Rory was an angel. Chloe wouldn’t have to explain everything from the beginning.

Are you free to talk?

Linda wrote back shortly. Of course. Lunch?

Are you free sooner?

She was. She had a cancellation and told Chloe to meet her in her office in a couple of hours. The time passed slowly, but at least relief was on its way.

Given the urgency, Linda assumed Chloe wanted her opinion on a homicide case. So, she was surprised when Chloe showed up at her office alone.

“Isn’t Lucifer with you?”

Chloe frowned. “Why? Has he already called you?”

“No, I thought you two had a case.”

“That was transferred to a different department.”

That didn’t line up with earlier events, but Amenadiel could’ve misread Lucifer’s text. Maybe Lucifer had had a different errand he needed to run without Rory, or maybe he’d simply needed some kid free time. He certainly seemed frustrated with the little girl during his therapy sessions.

Linda waved Chloe inside and closed the door for privacy. Chloe hovered by the couch but didn’t immediately sit down. Linda followed her cue and stayed standing as well.

“So, how can I help you today?”

“I don’t know that you can, but I felt like I was going crazy on my own,” Chloe said.

She seemed… well, tense was a bit of an understatement. Chloe’s gaze danced from one side of the office to the other, and she wrung her hands together without registering the motion. This was bigger than a case weighing on her mind. Chloe looked full on haunted, and after seeing that look reflected back in the mirror too many times, Linda would bet money that something celestial was haunting her friend.

“Something else happened, didn’t it?”

Chloe let out a sharp laugh. “Sure. Yeah, you could say that.”

“Did Lucifer’s Devil face return?” Linda remembered each of her own five thousand stages of existential crisis after seeing Lucifer’s scarred face, so she thought she could talk Chloe through them. It helped that Chloe must have gone through half of them so far just from learning angels were real.

Chloe’s eyes jumped to Linda’s. “His… what?”

“His Devil face?” Linda repeated.

“No, that’s not it,” Chloe answered with a shake of her head.

“You didn’t find another baby angel, did you?” Linda said it in a joking tone, but her stomach twisted with worry.

Chloe’s expression turned vacant. “No.” But the denial was undermined when she sat down heavily on the couch and dropped her head into her hands.

“Chloe?”

The knot in Linda’s stomach twisted tighter with her continued silence. Reason said Chloe was in her own crisis that had nothing to do with Linda — but reason left the building once angels entered the picture, and Linda couldn’t erase the image of a winged baby ripping through their mother’s uterus because there wasn’t another way out.

“Oh no, you’re going to tell me I’m pregnant, aren’t you?” she said. “Biology changed or angels changed and suddenly sleeping with an angel guarantees you a baby.”

Chloe raised her head. “What?”

“You figured out how baby angels happen and have come to tell me I’m screwed. Dammit!” Linda collapsed into her chair. “But all of the tests have come back negative.”

“Tests?”

“Pregnancy tests,” Linda said. “I’ve been taking one every day since Rory showed up.”

Why couldn’t she have more self-control? Sleeping with a second angel, seriously? How reckless could she be! Although, in her defense, Amenadiel was extremely charming and sweet and fun to talk to — gorgeous too, of course. And most importantly — they’d had no idea angels could get humans pregnant. If they had, things would’ve gone differently. At the very least, more protection would’ve been used. (Assuming protection even worked with angels. Gah!)

Slowly, in not quite a question but not fully a statement either, Chloe said, “You’re not pregnant.”

“Well, not so far, but what if human tests can’t detect angel pregnancies?” Linda grimaced. “You know how it works because you found Rory’s mother, didn’t you? Just please tell me she didn’t die in childbirth.”

The way Chloe’s face fell sent terror through Linda.

“We found her,” she said quietly.

“Oh no. Is she dead?” Linda asked. “Was it the wings? The human body isn’t made for that!”

“She’s me.”

That startled Linda’s panic into silence. She replayed the words in her head and then ran some math — but came out just as confused. “What?”

“I’m Rory’s mother,” Chloe repeated.

“But… how?” Linda frowned. “That’s not possible, right?”

“I have no idea how it’s possible, but it’s true.”

Okay, so there wasn’t a secretive affair pre-dating Lucifer joining up with the LAPD. “Was Lucifer right, then, about his mother manipulating DNA to make an angel?”

Chloe shook her head. “No, Rory’s mine. I gave birth to her. I raised her.”

Which just brought Linda back to her previous question. “But how is that possible?”

Chloe wavered. She ran her hand through her ponytail before answering. “Time travel.”

“Time travel,” Linda repeated flatly.

“That’s Rory’s power. She time travelled from the future to get here.”

Well, that was… a lot. “Angels can time travel now?”

“Apparently,” Chloe said, sounding close to hysterics. Linda certainly felt on the edge, too. How did every new fact about the celestial world shock her as thoroughly as the revelation before? Surely, at some point, she’d reach a plateau and only be mildly surprised at something an angel did, right?

(Though, as she thought about it, Amenadiel could freeze time. And unlike the TV show Charmed, his power was strong enough to pause the entire world. So, why couldn’t an angel be able to travel backwards through time as well?)

“But why wouldn’t she inherit Lucifer’s power if she inherited his wing color?”

“How did she get here by herself?” Chloe volleyed back. “Why did she even time travel in the first place? What happened in the future to drive a three year old to do that?”

Oh. That question hadn’t remotely crossed Linda’s mind yet, but it was a good point. Time travel meant Rory’s home was in a different year, not a different city or state. There was an entire world waiting for her in the future that they knew nothing about. A world where she was Lucifer and Chloe’s daughter —

Rory was Chloe’s daughter.

“Oh, that explains it!”

“Explains what?” Chloe said. “Time travel is a sci-fi movie. Not real life!”

Linda managed to swallow back the rolling tidal waves of relief before she blurted out how Chloe was a gift from God. Lucifer had told her that under the protection of doctor-patient confidentiality, and even if he hadn’t, Linda was absolutely not the person who should spill that news to Chloe. But it did explain where a baby angel had come from. Chloe was a gift for Lucifer. She made him vulnerable. It followed that they could have a child together. Rory didn’t exist because of how much time Lucifer spent around humans. She existed because of Chloe.

(Which meant this wasn’t something that could affect other angels. Linda could stop taking pregnancy tests and call Amenadiel to finally set up another date!

… but of course, that wasn’t relevant right now. Not when Chloe was still in distress.)

“You’re right,” Linda said. “It seemed like it should be the answer because it’s so outside of the range of normal, but I guess time travel doesn’t actually explain Rory’s existence either.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Chloe scoffed. “I mean, there’s never even been a relationship between me and Lucifer. I guess, maybe almost… but no, not even that!”

Linda found herself slipping into therapist mode now that she no longer had to worry about surviving giving birth to an angel baby. “It’s still been a fairly intense partnership, though, wouldn’t you say?”

“Not intense enough to have a child,” Chloe said. “That wouldn’t happen. Lucifer’s made his stance perfectly clear, and I’m over it.”

Linda was certain nothing was clear between Lucifer and Chloe, and neither of them were over anything — but they’d have to admit that to themselves before she could help them.

Chloe’s shoulders slumped. Heavy emotions colored her tone as she said, “I have a daughter. A second daughter, and she’s this beautiful little girl named Rory.”

This was still a new realization for her. Chloe might have only found out this morning judging by how much she was struggling to process it. Gently, Linda asked, “How did you figure out she was yours if she’s from the future?”

“Her name,” Chloe said. “Her full name is Aurora. I picked that out. And the DNA results came back again and confirmed it. They even said Trixie was Rory’s sister this time.”

“You got confirmation that Trixie and Rory are sisters?”

“Half sisters,” Chloe said with a nod. Her words picked up speed. “And Rory knows her. She knows all of us so well. It’s so obvious. It should’ve been obvious.”

“Obvious maybe if you knew about time travel,” Linda said. “But no one could have guessed she was from the future. Even Lucifer and Amenadiel didn’t realize it, and they’re angels.”

Chloe looked gutted. “But I should’ve known she was mine. I should’ve known.”

“Chloe—“ Linda paused to consider her words. “I know pop culture likes to say that people just ‘know’ when they meet an estranged family member, whether it’s separated twins or parents finding their grown-up children. But I don’t know how accurate that is in real life. There’s a lot of anecdotes, sure, from family members who recognized each other instantly. They’re reported as feel-good stories in the news. But if you dig deeper, there’s just as many anecdotes about family members that didn’t recognize each other or adopted children not feeling a connection to their birth parents after finally meeting them. I don’t think it’s fair to say there’s this innate knowing that happens.”

“Everyone at work could see it,” Chloe argued. “They all knew, and Trixie knew. She must have. I’ve never seen her get attached to a younger kid like that, but she fell into the big sister role so naturally. It’s like she already knew we were a family.”

“And maybe she even wished you were a family, but she couldn’t have known,” Linda said. “In fact, it was probably Rory’s knowledge and experience with Trixie in the future that made it so easy for Trixie to connect in the present.”

Chloe stared at the floor and didn’t respond. So, Linda added, “Realistically, you had no way of knowing Rory was your daughter. Time travel is… way outside of anyone’s lived experience. You couldn’t have known.”

“But I let her down.”

“When?” Linda asked. Chloe shook her head, biting back tears. “When you were there every day since she’s arrived? You’ve been staying at Lucifer’s to help take care of her. From Rory’s perspective, the year might have changed, but her mother’s always been with her.”

Quietly, Chloe said, “That’s what Lucifer said.”

Linda had wondered about Lucifer. “So, he knows who Rory really is?”

Chloe nodded.

“Have you talked about it?”

A head shake confirmed what Linda had suspected. They hadn’t discussed anything yet. They were both probably still trying to process it on their own. Lucifer’s typical reaction to difficult news was to run, but Linda had no idea if Chloe was doing the same right now. Was coming by her office to talk an attempt to avoid Lucifer or a response to Lucifer avoiding her?

“I imagine this is a lot to process, even putting aside the time travel part. How are you doing?”

Chloe stared off at the wall. After a moment, she said, “You know, after a few days, I stopped wanting to find Rory’s mother…. I still wanted to know what happened, why she was left all alone, but… I didn’t want to meet her mother. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to know who she was.”

“Why is that?” Linda asked. She watched Chloe struggle to find the right words.

“Um, because I didn’t want Rory to get hurt. If her mom had left her, I wanted to protect her from that.” A small furrow dipped in Chloe’s brow. “I… I didn’t want to risk giving her up. I didn’t want to find Rory’s mother because then we might not get to keep her.”

The confession hit Chloe hard. Applying words to her feelings for the first time — it was a tough thing for anyone to process. A few tears fell from Chloe’s eyes. She looked more lost now than she had when she’d first walked into Linda’s office.

Linda crossed over to join her on the couch. She placed her hand on Chloe’s arm.

“But I’m her mother,” Chloe continued. “There wasn’t ever anyone else to find.”

“And maybe you knew that the whole time,” Linda said. “If you didn’t want to give her up, maybe deep down you did recognize her as your daughter.”

It still wasn’t something Linda believed to be universally true. But if it reassured Chloe, she could support it.

“But she’s three,” Chloe said, brokenly. “I’m not supposed to be meeting my daughter when she’s three.”

She could’ve been older. At least, she’s only three and already knew who you were. The thoughts escaped before Linda could bar the doors. Her throat tightened at the reminder of her own, very human, daughter living her life somewhere out there in complete ignorance of who her birth mother was. With great effort, Linda forced these thoughts back into their cage, locked the door, and reburied it deep in the back of her mind.

“Do we have to send her back?” Chloe suddenly looked at her like Linda could provide the answers she sought. “If she’s not from this year, then she has to go back, right? We still don’t get to keep her. But what if the future is worse? What if it’s better if she stayed here? Is that even possible?”

Linda slowly shook her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know. I don’t think anyone has those answers.”

Chloe crumbled, and Linda pulled her into a hug.

“I just want her to be okay,” Chloe said.

“I know you do.” Linda rubbed her shoulder. “I know.

And she did understand that, just like she understood Chloe would give up her daughter if that ended up being the best choice for her, even if it broke Chloe’s heart in the process.

Chloe stayed until it was nearly time for Linda’s next appointment. After she left, Linda debated whether she should text Lucifer. She knew he couldn’t be handling this news any better than Chloe, but was it better for her to reach out first? Or should she wait for him to seek help from her? Did he need his friend or his therapist most right now?

Her thumbs hovered over the screen, undecided.

Across town, Lucifer threaded his way through the mid-morning crowd at the restaurant Smokehouse (formerly known as Momo’s Smokehouse until a nasty little tiff last year had left Momo’s body charred and smoking in an alleyway). Oddly, most of the patrons inside weren’t even mobsters. They were just ordinary citizens with a craving for red meat.

Not that any of them mattered. Lucifer was here for only one person. He cut a path straight to the table in the back. Bodyguards rose up as he approached, but he shoved right by them.

“Gentlemen, don’t you recognize a friend?” The man he came to see waved his hand in dismissal. The guards stepped back, and he smiled. “Welcome, Lucifer. What can I do for you?”

Lucifer gifted him with a smile of his own. But where the other man’s was a guarded portcullis, Lucifer’s shined with flames and torment.

“Hello, Frankie. I heard you got my favor killed.”

Chapter Text

So many thoughts whirled through Chloe’s mind as she returned to the penthouse. Talking to Linda had put some of them into words, but she still felt numb in the face of her chaotic emotions. Obviously she and Lucifer needed to talk, but… where would they even begin? With the future and what it might or might not look like? Or should they jump straight to the elephant in the room with this proof that their sexual relationship would (had) change?

No. Chloe absolutely could not discuss those things with Lucifer. And what did it matter anyway? Their relationship wasn’t important. Rory was. They needed to focus on their daughter.

Chloe intended to make this clear to Lucifer as soon as she saw him — but to her surprise, it wasn’t Lucifer waiting in the penthouse.

“Amenadiel.” Chloe stared at the angel (her mind only skipped once on the word before it again classified him as Lucifer’s brother). “What are you doing here?”

“Oh hi, Chloe,” Amenadiel cheerfully greeted her. His attention stayed on the tiny toddler tugging at his legs. “You’re back already.”

“I’m on lunch,” Chloe explained. She scanned the room again, but there was still no sign of Lucifer. Before she could ask why, a sharp whine interrupted.

“You’re not falling down, Uncle Meni.” Rory pouted.

Immediately, Amenadiel apologized. “I got distracted, but maybe it will work this time if you push me a little harder.”

Rory gritted her teeth and shoved her entire weight against Amenadiel’s legs. This time, he tumbled back onto the floor. Rory laughed and cheered as she climbed on top of his chest.

“I win! I win again!”

“Yes, you do. Good job!” Amenadiel grinned. “Do you want to try again?”

“Yeah!”

Nothing sounded as precious as her daughter’s giggles. Chloe could listen to them all day, but regretfully she needed to interrupt their game. “Hey, maybe we can put a pause on tackling Uncle Amenadiel, okay, monkey?”

“Oh, it’s just play-wrestling,” Amenadiel assured her. “I’ve been careful not to hurt her.”

“No, that’s fine,” Chloe said, “but where’s Lucifer?”

Amenadiel frowned and glanced over to the elevator in surprise. “I thought he was with you. Is he not?”

Why did everyone think they were together today? It was like everyone had mentally paired them as a couple just because Rory was their daughter.

Chloe said, “No. He’s supposed to be here with Rory. What happened? Did he have a meeting with someone?” Lucifer hadn’t been involved in any of his usual work since Rory’s arrival, so it would make sense if he had to take care of some business with the club.

But Amenadiel shook his head. “He texted me to watch Rory because he needed to help you with a case.”

“Our case was transferred to another department.”

“Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!” Rory ran over, all smiles. Chloe leaned down to accept the welcome home hug.

“Hi, baby. Are you ready for lunch?”

On every other day, this question was answered with a resounding ‘yes!’, but today Rory put on a mischievous grin. “I’ve got a secret.”

“You’ve got a secret, huh?” Chloe said. “What is it?”

A toddler’s secrets weren’t often that juicy, but she hoped it might be a new clue about the future or even an explanation for Lucifer’s disappearance. Rory’s answer, though, was just plain confusing.

“I saw Uncle Meni’s trick!”

“His trick?”

“Yeah! It’s funny,” Rory said.

“What’s his trick?”

“Oh.” Amenadiel chuckled. “It’s an angel thing.”

“An angel thing or a trick?” Chloe asked, not appreciating the vagueness.

Rory sprinted back to Amenadiel. “Show Mommy! Show her your trick!”

“Okay, let’s go to the bar.” Amenadiel picked up the gleeful little girl and walked her across the room.

“You’re showing her bar tricks?” Chloe supposed she shouldn’t be worried. She allowed Maze to baby-sit and she was certain Trixie didn’t tell her half of she and Maze did together — but that was always a choice Chloe made. She had never come home and been surprised to find someone baby-sitting her kid.

“Watch him, Mommy!”

Amenadiel set Rory down on the bar’s countertop where Lucifer would never allow her. He confirmed she was steady before turning away, but still Chloe moved to Rory’s side to support her balance. Blissfully unconcerned with potential falls, Rory raptly watched Amenadiel. She squealed and clapped her hands when he dipped into a drawer and pulled out a knife.

Chloe groaned. “No, not more knife throwing.”

“No, this is different.” Amenadiel looked at Rory. “Okay, are you ready?”

“Do it! Do it, Uncle Meni!”

When Chloe heard the word ‘trick’, she thought of magic tricks or a quirky party trick where someone could toss a bottle to land upright every time. She did not expect Amenadiel to raise the knife high above his hand and then swiftly stab down.

“Whoa, no!”

The knife stopped when it reached his hand, and she heard a crack. Rory dissolved into laughter while Amenadiel grimaced.

“I think I fractured the knife,” he said. “We may have done this a few times already today.”

Logic said Amenadiel had merely halted the knife at the last second to avoid stabbing himself — but Chloe’s flash of adrenaline and the pounding heart in her chest said Amenadiel had stabbed himself. He just wasn’t injured. Quick reflexes and practiced muscle control hadn’t saved him. The knife, somehow, couldn’t penetrate his skin.

“What did you just do?”

Amenadiel held up his unharmed hand and wiggled his fingers. “Invulnerability. I’ve been teaching Rory what it means to be an angel.”

“But she’s not invulnerable.” Chloe ignored her daughter’s giddy requests for an encore and set her back on the floor. “No Rory, we don’t play with sharp knives, remember? You can cut yourself.”

Despite being three and innocent and so, so young, Rory rolled her eyes like a teenager and said, “Yes, I know. I’m a baby angel.”

“Yes, you are,” Chloe agreed. “So, you don’t play with knives.”

“Let’s do the trick again!”

“No.”

“But Uncle Meni’s a big angel.”

“I said no.”

Rory stomped her foot hard on the floor and hit Chloe with a glare fiercer than any Trixie had ever mustered in her lifetime.

Oh, she is definitely going to be trouble as she gets older.

“Uncle Meni, I want to see the trick again.”

As if going over her head was possible. Chloe didn’t have to know what the future was like to know that move had never worked for either of her daughters.

“No,” she repeated.

Annoyingly, Amenadiel knelt down like his input was necessary. “I broke the knife that time, so maybe we should try the trick again later.”

“Get a different knife.”

“Rory, I already said no!” Chloe forced a deep breath. “Monkey, why don’t you go practice with your soft knives that Auntie Maze gave you while I talk to Uncle Amenadiel? Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

“No!” Rory stomped both feet this time, repeatedly, and Chloe cursed every ounce of Lucifer’s temper that their daughter had clearly inherited. Then, she cursed him again for not even being around to help manage it.

“Rory,” she ordered in her firm, no arguing back, Mom voice. “Go play with your toys while I talk to Amenadiel. In a few minutes, we’ll eat lunch.”

The scowl didn’t leave her face, but the tone worked. Rory obediently ran off to her toy corner and flung herself into her giant teddy-bear-turned-practice-dummy to whine against its stuffing.

“I promise I never let her touch the knife,” Amenadiel said. “Lucifer was very clear about not letting her handle sharp objects.”

At her absentee partner’s name, Chloe whirled around and asked, “What are you doing here? Where is Lucifer?”

“I thought he was with you.”

“But what are you doing here?”

“Lucifer asked me to watch Rory,” Amenadiel replied. “He said he’d back in a few hours.”

“Back from what?”

“I thought you knew. He said he was working a case with you.”

Chloe snapped, “No, he didn’t because we don’t have a case, and Lucifer doesn’t lie. So, what did he actually say?”

“I….” Amenadiel shook his head and thought back. “Uh, he said he needed to investigate something, and then he gave me this long list of how to take care of Rory. Like don’t let her on the balcony, always keep her in my sight even in the bathroom, don’t watch Fringe without him — which turned into another rant about someone named Agent Squarejaw? But I couldn’t tell if that’s an officer you work with or a television character.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“No.” Then, Amenadiel admitted, “But I also didn’t ask.”

“Great. That’s just great.” Chloe called out to her still pouting daughter, “Rory, do you want your peanut butter and jelly?”

Rory peeled her face off her stuffed animals to answer. “Strawberry.”

“Yes, I know you like strawberry jelly.” Chloe marched off to the kitchen to have space to think, but, infuriatingly, Amenadiel followed.

“Lucifer also gave me instructions for her lunch. Peanut butter on one slice of bread, spread the jelly on the other, and then slice the sandwich on the diagonal. The majority of his instructions were food related which I found strange. He should be more focused on developing her angel skills, but when I suggested I take her flying—“

“You took her flying?” Chloe interrupted. “In the air, outside? She’s three!”

“No, I didn’t,” Amenadiel said, “because Lucifer snapped at me exactly the way you did. Just with more… Lucifer.”

At least they were on the same page about flying. Chloe yanked open the fridge and pulled out the strawberry jelly.

Amenadiel continued on. “You’ve also been caring for Rory these past few weeks. Do you know how her angel side is progressing? Is she hovering perhaps? Has she shown any sign of what her powers are?”

Chloe dropped the bag of bread back on the counter and slowly turned around. “He didn’t tell you?”

Amenadiel became excited. “Her powers are active? What is it? Is it desire like Lucifer’s?”

“He really didn’t tell you.” Chloe scoffed. “Of course, he didn’t. Why stick around for the hard stuff when you can just run? That’s what he’s best at.”

The smile slipped off Amenadiel’s face. “So… her power isn’t active? Well, that’s… that’s okay. She’s still young. She has time to develop.”

“No, Amenadiel. She has her powers that’s how she got here.”

“She started flying?” Amenadiel smiled again. “By herself? That’s incredible news!”

“She time travelled,” Chloe corrected. “As of today, Rory hasn’t been born yet. She’s from the future.”

Saying it out loud was just as difficult as when she’d explained it to Linda. Oh, the words came out just fine, but it was like she was outside her body when she said them. Or like she was in a dream she couldn’t wake up from. What made it worse was she shouldn’t even be the one explaining this time travel stuff. Amenadiel was Lucifer’s brother. Lucifer should’ve been the one to tell him. How did Chloe keep getting saddled with the responsibility? She wasn’t even an angel for crying out loud! She understood Rory’s power even less than Lucifer did!

Amenadiel didn’t understand it either. “But that’s…. Time travel isn’t possible for angels. Even I can only slow time, and I’m… basically the most powerful angel there is.”

“Wow, impressive. I’m so happy for you,” Chloe deadpanned before turning around to finish prepping Rory’s lunch.

“I only mean it’s unlikely that she travelled from the future to get here,” Amenadiel said. “And even if she could time travel, that still doesn’t explain where she came from.”

Chloe laughed. “No, it really doesn’t. And yet, I’m supposed to accept that I have a new daughter without any reasonable explanation while Lucifer gets to run off in a tantrum.” She slammed the jelly spoon on the plate. “You know, I’m so sick of this! Maybe I want to run away too, did anyone consider that? But no, I have to be the adult because someone has to take care of Rory.”

She resumed making the peanut butter and jelly sandwich. After a moment, Amenadiel asked, “What new daughter?”

Chloe paused.

“Lucifer’s not putting Rory up for adoption, is he? I thought he was adjusting to fatherhood.”

“No…. That’s not the issue.” Chloe braced herself to explain (again) and then turned around. “I’m Rory’s mother.”

Amenadiel stared. “I don’t understand.”

“She’s mine. I’m her mother.”

“You are,” Amenadiel said flatly like he still didn’t believe her.

Chloe shrugged. “At some point in the future.” Then, she ducked back out into the hallway and called out, “Rory, I’m making your peanut butter and jelly. Do you want carrot sticks too?”

“No!” Rory yelled back.

“Okay.”

A second later, there was the sound of little feet running followed by the repeating chant, “Yes, yes, yes, yes.” When her daughter arrived in the kitchen, Chloe bent down to clasp her hands. Rory fell back into her pout.

“Hey, monkey,” Chloe said. “I’m sorry I made you stop playing with Uncle Amenadiel. Mommy gets worried when there are sharp knives.”

“Uncle Meni can’t get hurt,” Rory said.

“No, apparently he can’t.” A fact Chloe still had a hard time believing after seeing Lucifer get hurt so many times. “Has Uncle Amenadiel shown you that trick before?”

Rory went quiet and guiltily shifted her gaze to the stove.

“Uh huh,” Chloe said. “Is that something he only does when he baby-sits? Is it supposed to be a secret?”

“No,” Rory said so slowly that Chloe didn’t believe her.

“But I haven’t seen the trick yet, have I?” she guessed. “And maybe that’s why I got scared. I just want to keep you safe, okay?”

“I’m always safe, Mommy.”

Chloe closed her eyes against the tide of emotion and pulled her daughter into a hug. No child was ever truly safe from harm, as she knew all too well — and that was before whatever other extra threats there were from Rory being an angel — but she was glad Rory believed she was safe. It meant she’d been doing her job as her mother.

“Okay, good. I’m glad you’re always safe.” She kissed Rory’s cheek. “Now, you said you wanted carrots with your lunch?”

“And peanut butter and strawberry.”

“Oh yes, I’ve got your peanut butter and strawberry jelly all ready to go.”

“And a brownie?” Rory raised her large, puppy dog eyes to plead.

Chloe smirked. “A brownie, huh? Will a brownie make you feel better?”

Rory answered with a solemn nod, “It will make me feel a lot better.”

“You sound just like your sister. I bet your chocolate tooth is as big as Trixie’s too, isn’t it?” She tickled underneath Rory’s arm, prompting her to giggle and squirm away.

“No, I have only one chocolate tooth. But all of Tee’s teeth are chocolate!”

“All of them?” Chloe playfully exclaimed. “You know, you might be right because Trixie eats chocolate all the time.”

“Yeah, and it gave her really big chocolate teeth,” Rory said, still giggling over the game. Seeing her daughter so happy and carefree eased a bit of the knot in her chest. She was still scared of how much she didn’t understand, still angry with Lucifer, but Rory continued to be absolutely perfect.

She sat Rory up on a barstool and then fetched the carrot sticks. Amenadiel watched them in silence until Chloe sat Rory’s plate in front of her.

“Does Lucifer know you’re Rory’s mother?”

“Uh, yeah,” Chloe said. “That’s probably why he ran off.” She shuddered to think where he might be right now. Holed up in a bar that serves at eleven-thirty in the morning? Locked in someone’s hotel room (or multiple someones)? Halfway to Vegas again?

“Daddy’s fighting bad guys,” Rory declared.

Chloe turned to face her. “What did you say?”

“Daddy left to fight bad guys. He said so,” Rory repeated. “I said that’s your job, but he didn’t believe me.” She giggled and showed off the half-chewed carrot between her teeth. “He’s silly.”

Chloe glanced over to Amenadiel for confirmation, but he just shrugged.

“Lucifer only used the word ‘investigate’ around me.”

“Did Daddy tell you this?” she asked Rory. Her daughter nodded. “Did he say which bad guys he was fighting?”

Rory’s eyes lit up with the excitement of a story. “Big bad guys!”

“What about a name, monkey? Did Daddy mention any names?”

“Um….” Rory thought. “He said don’t watch Fringe without him. I pinky promised.”

Chloe nodded. Mentally, she berated herself for interrogating her daughter. It was exactly what she’d been so careful not to do to Trixie during her and Dan’s separation, and yet here she was, once again, breaking all of her rules because of Lucifer. She was going to kill him when she finally tracked him down.

“Oh, I know, Mommy! I know!” Rory piped up. “Ferrari bad guys!”

Amenadiel frowned. “Like the car?”

“How do you know the word Ferrari?” Chloe asked.

Rory bounced in her seat. “Ferrari knife bad guys! Daddy was mad at him.”

The puzzle of a three year old’s words finally snapped into place. “Rory, do you mean Frankie Ferrante?”

“Um… no, I don’t think so.” Rory shook her head and then dug back into her lunch.

But Frankie Ferrante was the only thing Chloe could think of that would fit Rory’s jumbled up clues. And if Lucifer hadn’t ran away like a coward but had instead fallen back into his other old habit of punishing people… then Frankie Ferrante would be a good place to start.

The restaurant quickly filled with the lunch rush. The buzz of the mundane (and completely legal) activity faded to background noise as Lucifer kept his eyes fixed on the guilty man sitting across the table.

Casually, Frankie plucked another toasted ravioli from the appetizer plate. “I treat all my business arrangements seriously, Lucifer, you know that.”

“The ‘business’ doesn’t usually end up dead,” Lucifer countered. “Unless that was the arrangement.”

“I’m gutted by what happened to Joey.” Frankie placed his hand to his heart. “Truly. That boy meant the world to me. I had big plans for him.”

“Plans that included murdering him?”

Frankie slammed that same hand to the table, the impact loud enough to temporarily quiet the restaurant. Lucifer had offended him. Good. He was on the right path to get answers, then. Still, he had a ways to go because the mobster’s voice remained calm when he replied, “I swore I’d watch out for Joey Pillegi and that’s what I did.”

“He’s dead, Frankie! You call that watching out for him?”

“We didn’t off him.”

Lucifer scoffed. The bodyguard across the table shrugged and added, “The kid was a natural born entrepreneur. Who knows what other dealings he was into?”

“Shut your mouth, Len,” Frankie snapped. “We’re not slandering our Joey like that. You know damn well that kid was loyal through and through.”

The bodyguard shrunk back into his seat, suitably scolded for crossing Frankie. There were no signs of bitterness, though. No glimpse of hatred or jealousy towards Joey to suggest he’d secretly killed the boy. Lucifer poked harder at the wound.

“Are you sure about that? I heard there were wads of cash and designer sneaks found in his dump of an apartment. Wasn’t it you who jacked that sneaker shipment a few months ago?”

Frankie waved his hand. “Those were gifts.”

“For a lackey at the bottom of the ladder?”

“I treat my people well.”

Frankie reached for another ravioli, but Lucifer slapped the plate out of reach. Fury met fury as their eyes locked. The bodyguards to either side tensed.

“Your people,” Lucifer spat. “His legs were broken after the fact. He was murdered and then his body desecrated, and you’re claiming ignorance?”

“Trust me, anyone who played a role in Joey’s death will be punished,” Frankie said. “I don’t give out free passes to my enemies — something you should remember right now.”

Lucifer stood up. He leaned down over the table until his face was inches from Frankie’s. To the mobster’s credit, he didn’t flinch.

“And you should remember, Frankie, that I’m the Devil. I invented punishment.”

“For the last time, I didn’t kill Joey. I loved him like he was my own son.”

Flames licked at Lucifer’s chest. The room turned red.

“Then, you’re a shit excuse for a father.”

It took half a dozen phone calls and a ten minute plea to Organized Crime before someone shared Frankie Ferrante’s current base of operations. Chloe was skeptical of the restaurant’s legitimacy until she saw the neon sign for herself.

“It really is just called Steakhouse.” She snorted. “They couldn’t have come up with a less obvious front?”

The parking lot was surprisingly full for a mob’s money laundering scheme. The lunch rush was at its peak, though patrons were streaming out of the door rather than in — and they were walking quickly. Something was wrong. It was only twelve-fifteen. There was no benign reason for so many people to be leaving at once.

“Uh uh, I’d come back tomorrow,” someone said as Chloe crossed the parking lot. Their flowery sleeves flapped in the wind as they tried to shoo her back to her car. “Trust me. You don’t want to go in there right now.”

“And why is that?” Chloe asked, flashing her badge. The person’s friendliness stiffened into alarm. Their cheeks turned red enough to match their beard.

“Hey now, you can’t shut them down! This place makes the best rye bread in the state. Who cares if they’re the mob?”

“Oh my god, does everyone know this place is a front?”

“It can’t be a front if the food is that good,” the patron claimed. “They’re doing us a service if you ask me. You can’t arrest them for being great chefs.”

Before Chloe could respond, a gunshot rang out from inside the restaurant, swiftly followed by two others. The person who’d argued on the mob’s behalf fled, and the other swift-walking patrons shifted to running for their cars.

Chloe reached for her gun while cautiously approaching the doors. Police procedure said she should call for backup and stay outside, but Lucifer’s car sitting in the parking lot meant he was likely the one being shot at. They weren’t even supposed to be confronting Frankie Ferrante right now. If she brought in more cops now, it would unnecessarily escalate things.

Another shot went off as she opened the front door, but it sounded like it came from deeper inside the restaurant. The lobby was abandoned. Still, Chloe crouched behind the half-wall divider before creeping forward. The dining room lighting was dim in comparison to the outside sun. Chloe walked slowly until her eyes could adjust.

Two more shots echoed followed by a merciless laugh she recognized as Lucifer’s.

“Come on, Frankie! Quit hiding behind your guns!”

“You can’t play games with me, man.”

“Oh, I have much worse things in mind for you than a ‘game.’”

“I told you I didn’t touch that boy!”

Chloe was just a few tables away now. Lucifer had his back to her while he faced down three men. Frankie Ferrante stood in the middle with what seemed to be a bodyguard on either side. All three had their guns aimed right at Lucifer which accounted for the gunshots. But how was Lucifer still standing? The Ferrante mob wasn’t known to give warning shots, even with allies. If they fired their guns, they were aiming to kill.

Lucifer didn’t seem to care. Unconcerned with the danger, he took a step forward. A bodyguard tensed to shoot again, so Chloe rushed in.

“LAPD! Drop your weapons!”

She leveled her own gun at the bodyguard. Instantly, two of the guns turned on her. Frankie, though, obeyed her order. He took his finger off the trigger and held up his hands.

“Detective Decker. I didn’t realized someone had called the police about our intruder.”

“I said drop your weapons. All of you!” Chloe repeated. But the bodyguards didn’t budge.

Lucifer groaned. “You lost this case, Detective. What are you doing here?”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Chloe shot back.

“The LAPD’s job of bringing Joey Pillegi’s killer to justice.”

If they hadn’t been facing off with three mobsters, she would’ve shot Lucifer in the leg again because they both knew damn well Joey Pillegi was not why he was there.

Frankie spoke. “Like I told your detective earlier, I don’t know anything about that boy’s death.”

“Oh, please,” Lucifer scoffed and moved forward again. The twitchy-fingered bodyguard swung his gun back to him.

“Stop! Everyone just stop!” Chloe ordered. “Alright Frankie, listen to me. You don’t want Lucifer in your restaurant, right? Well, I don’t want Lucifer in your restaurant either. So, tell your men to back down, and I’ll get him out of your hair for you. Nothing has to come of this. Deal?”

She expected a longer negotiation given she was severely outnumbered and this was arguably the largest mob in LA — but without hesitating, Frankie gave her a curt nod and gestured at his bodyguards to put their guns away. Once they had, Chloe holstered hers as well and marched over to Lucifer.

“Come on.” She yanked hard on his wrist. Lucifer didn’t resist. He followed her out of the restaurant, though not without dragging his feet and muttering complaints with every step.

She spun on him as soon as they were safe outside. “Were you trying to get yourself killed? What the fuck were you thinking?”

There were bullet holes in his shirt — six of them. Chloe’s heart raced as she counted the frayed edges. Frankie’s men had shot him after all, and yet there wasn’t a drop of blood. Somehow, Lucifer was as unharmed as Amenadiel’s hand had been earlier. The visual contrast between destruction and wholeness made her furious.

“It hardly matters,” Lucifer answered with a roll of his eyes. He pushed past her to head for his car, but Chloe caught his arm again.

“Hey! You left Rory alone without telling me. I came home to find some random person watching our daughter.”

Lucifer flinched, but quickly recovered. “It wasn’t random. ‘Uncle Meni’ needed the practice since he’s clearly going to have his own brat in the future. Remember that cousin Rory always talks about?”

“That isn’t my point! Rory time travels. Your sister tried to kidnap her barely a week ago. You have to tell me before you leave our daughter with a sitter. I can’t just come home—“

“Your daughter!” Lucifer interrupted.

“What?”

“She’s your daughter, not ours.”

White, icy rage swept over her. “So, let me get this straight. You’re not acting out because you’re worried about time travel — because that’s just another day in the life for an angel, I guess, right? No instead, you’re still trying to pretend you don’t even have a daughter. Now, after we have undeniable proof that Rory is yours.”

“And yet you’re the one who’s raised her,” Lucifer said. “I’m barely a sperm donor. I’m certainly not her father. I was never there for her.”

He headed for his car again, but Chloe stood where she was.

“You think you’re the only one scared right now? Guess what, I’m terrified.”

Lucifer halted, but he didn’t look back. Chloe pushed on, “We have a daughter who time travels. I have no idea what that means for her or for her future. I have no idea what that means about… us, but that doesn’t matter. Our feelings, our relationship — none of it matters. Rory is what’s important. She’s only three years old and dealing with powers way too big for her to handle on her own — powers she didn’t ask for. She didn’t even ask to be an angel. That’s on us because we’re her parents. So, it’s our responsibility to fix this for her. Not run off and pick fights with the damn mob.”

Slowly, Lucifer turned to face her. His stony, angry walls had disappeared, leaving only agony in his expression. “But I wasn’t there for her,” he repeated. “She never knew me in the future.”

And Chloe was terrified of that too. She had no idea why Rory hadn’t known her father until she’d arrived in the past, but her gut said it was a lot more complicated than Lucifer simply walking out on them.

“But you named her.”

Lucifer shook his head. “She shares your middle name. Anyone could have picked that out.”

“No, you named her,” Chloe said. She had watched him do it while their daughter sulked on the couch in front of them. “You loved her enough in the future to give her a name. There’s no way you abandoned her after that.”

Lucifer looked like he wanted to argue again, but Chloe denied him the chance.

“So, don’t you dare abandon her in the present.”

They stared at each other: an infinitely long standoff of fear and heartbreak and anger. But finally… finally… Lucifer conceded with a tight nod. Chloe forced her clenched fists to relax and tried to assure herself. They were still in danger of drowning, of being pummeled by storm waves crashing against cliff side rocks, but a lifeboat had arrived. Maybe if they held onto it hard enough, they could use it to navigate to safety.

Lucifer didn’t say a word to Amenadiel as they arrived back at the penthouse. He’d had all of eternity to practice shutting down his brother’s attempts to poke his nose into his life, so ignoring him now was easy. The Detective, on the other hand, cut right through his erected barriers. Against his will, he heard her shoot a litany of questions at Amenadiel, asking about everything from Rory’s behavior to Amenadiel’s own. They were questions any good parent would ask, questions Lucifer, himself, might have asked a day earlier. He would’ve been paranoid about leaving his daughter alone with an untested sitter. But Amenadiel wasn’t untested, was he? He must have watched Rory plenty of times in the future. So often, in fact, she likely considered him less of an uncle and more of a surrogate father. It was a bit difficult to muster up concern for the present when Rory was so obviously undamaged by the future.

It was difficult to feel anything.

“Daddy!”

The squeal finished with an ear-splitting high note. Rory sprinted away from her toys with a speed and enthusiasm previously reserved only for the Detective. Just before reaching him, she leaped into the air, forcing Lucifer to scramble to catch her. It was only after she was secure in his arms that he realized Rory never once questioned if he would drop her.

“Daddy, you’re home!” She wrapped him in a hug so tight it hurt his chest. Then, she excitedly babbled something too quickly for him to catch.

Lucifer tried to calm her. “Yes. Yes, alright. You know your mother is here, too.”

“I know,” Rory said, dismissively. She flashed a glaringly bright grin. “Can we do the trick too, Daddy?”

Before he could ask what she meant (toddlers’ imaginations were quite unique and ‘trick’ wasn’t exactly specific), Chloe interrupted.

“No, no more tricks, remember?”

His heart stopped when Chloe leaned in to kiss their daughter’s head while she was still in his arms. The gesture was so white-picket-fence, so domestic, and so cruelly timed, he honestly wondered if he’d become trapped in a Hell loop again.

“Can you tell Uncle Amenadiel bye, monkey?”

Recklessly, Rory flung herself over Lucifer’s shoulder, disregarding such tedious things like weight distribution or balance. She (correctly) assumed he’d keep her upright as she waved and called out, “Bye, Uncle Meni! Hey, can you bring Charlie to play next time?”

Lucifer locked eyes with Chloe, each shouting silent warnings to the other to keep their mouth shut.

Amenadiel remained oblivious. “Uh, yeah. Maybe your friend Charlie will join us next time.” He smiled with his answer and then eyed Lucifer meaningfully. “And we’ll talk more later?” Lucifer continued his silence and looked away, but that must have been confirmation enough for his brother. Without another word, Amenadiel left, and he and Chloe were suddenly alone.

Alone aside from their equally oblivious daughter.

“Daddy, can we do the trick now?” Rory asked.

“What trick do you keep talking about?”

“Something we’re not doing again,” Chloe tried to tell their daughter, but Rory squirmed her way back to the ground and took off running for the kitchen.

“No, Rory! We’re done playing with knives.”

Rory drew to a halt and fixed them with a pout.

“What knives?” Lucifer asked.

Chloe huffed. “It’s a stupid game Amenadiel did earlier. Your brother’s idea of baby-sitting.” She said the last bit as an accusation, like Lucifer was personally responsible for whatever criminally ridiculous choices Amenadiel made.

“Well, he didn’t stab her, did he? Rory looks fine.”

“No, you!” Rory said.

“What?”

“You get stabbed!” She giggled. “It’s funny.”

Chloe squatted down beside Rory. “And we talked about how that was dangerous and agreed to not play that game anymore. Do you remember?”

“But Daddy can play. He’s a big angel.”

“I don’t care if the big angels can’t get hurt,” Chloe said. “You still can, so no more knife tricks.”

“That’s the trick? Demonstrating angel invulnerability?” Lucifer rolled his eyes. “You’re right, he does pick boring games for baby-sitting.”

“I said dangerous.”

“No, it’s funny!” Rory ran back over to him and tugged on his legs. “You’ll see, Daddy. Try it!”

“No,” Lucifer said, both to avoid another fight with Chloe and to avoid bleeding on his suit. Only his shirt had been ruined in his earlier scuffle with Frankie, but he was vulnerable around Chloe. Stabbing himself wouldn’t be a trick so much as an inconvenient injury.

“Do it, Daddy! Do the trick.”

“Rory, we said no.” Chloe tried to guide Rory away, but the girl planted her feet and screeched.

“No! I want to see the trick!”

Reluctantly, Lucifer admitted, “It doesn’t work for me. I can’t do the trick right now.”

But Rory, the blastedly stubborn child, had already made up her mind. She was either going to see him perform this ‘trick’ or she was going to bruise her feet stomping about it.

And stomp she did. For a tiny, mortal creature who barely weighed thirty pounds, she could sure generate a lot of force. And if the echoing thumps on the marble floor weren’t enough to cause a headache, she could also pitch her cries high enough to break glass.

The Detective crossed her arms over her chest and shrugged. “Scream about it all you like, Rory. We’re not going to let you play with a knife.”

But Lucifer wasn’t in the mood for a second battle of wills, especially one they were guaranteed to lose. “Fine. You want to see a trick? I’ll show you a trick.” He marched over to the nearest sharp object he could spot — a letter opener he’d stored out of reach on the top shelf of the bookcase.

“Lucifer!” Chloe snapped. “Don’t!”

Rory’s dry-eyed cries turned to happy squeals. She began bouncing instead of stomping while she chanted, “Trick, trick, trick!”

“I said no. Put that up!”

Lucifer might be physically vulnerable at the moment, but he was immune to both his daughter’s grins and the Detective’s scolding. By this point, he just wanted out: out of the blast radius of a temperamental toddler, out of this confusing, time-travelling clusterfuck with the Detective. Just out.

He dropped in front of Rory and held up the letter opener. “Here, proof I’m telling the truth,” he said, and then, he sliced his fingertip open along the edge. “Ta da.”

The grin slipped off Rory’s face as she saw the thin line of blood form. Her giddy cheers fell silent.

Chloe swiped the letter opener away. “I can’t believe you did that! I just got after Amenadiel for this crap. She’s only three. She can actually get hurt.”

“So can I. That was my point.”

His little demonstration had left Rory suitably stunned. Good. It served her right for making assumptions and always insisting on getting her way. Lucifer didn’t feel guilty at all for disappointing her. Not even when her little mouth rounded in dismay.

“Absolutely no sharp objects around the toddler. Why is that such a difficult rule for angels to follow? You’ve been alive since the beginning of time and you still can’t grasp basic safety measures?”

“Oh, no.”

Rory’s words were only a whisper, but they still managed to cut through the Detective’s relentless berating.

“Oh, no.”

Lucifer held up his hand to hush Chloe. “Rory, what’s wrong?”

The tiny infant raised a pair of devastated eyes up to him. “You’re bleeding.” Then, her face crumpled into genuine tears. In a broken voice, she cried, “Daddy’s hurt.”

“I… I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.” It was a good thing he hadn’t been in the mood to stab himself through the hand if this was how Rory reacted to a simple cut.

The tears turned into full-blown sobs as Chloe rushed over to comfort her. “It’s okay, monkey. Daddy’s okay.”

“No, he’s bleeding. Daddy’s bleeding.”

Chloe pulled Rory towards her for a hug, but the girl twisted away to shout at Lucifer.

“Oh no, sit down, Daddy!”

“What?”

“Sit down! You have to sit down!”

She unexpectedly shoved against his legs. Bewildered, Lucifer moved with the force until he fell back onto the couch. Rory stood in front of him, arms outstretched in warning.

“Stay, Daddy.” Tears streamed down her face as she commanded, “Stay there. I’ll fix it.”

“There’s nothing wrong.” But when Lucifer tried to stand again, Rory screeched in alarm.

“Sit down, Daddy!”

So, Lucifer remained sitting. Rory ran away from the couch, but she didn’t seem to know where to go. When Chloe tried to approach her, the girl just repeated, “Daddy’s bleeding!” and darted off again. This time, she ran to her toy corner and searched for something she was incapable of recognizing. She settled on dragging over her four foot tall teddy bear and heaved it onto the couch beside him. Then, she added a blanket. Then, another.

“I’ll fix it. It’s okay, Daddy.”

“It’s not even bleeding anymore.”

When Chloe caught him with a questioning gaze, Lucifer could only shrug. He had no idea what their daughter was up to either.

“Rory, I’m fine.”

“No, no! You’re bleeding!”

Chloe managed to catch her before she could add a fifth stuffed animal to the pile. “Hey, about we get a band-aid. Do you think that will help?”

Rory nodded. “Yes, a band-aid. Daddy needs a band-aid.”

“No, I don’t,” Lucifer protested until Chloe shut him down with a glare. Wonderful. It would’ve been his fault for Rory throwing a tantrum, and now it was his fault Rory was frightened and in tears. No wonder his future self hadn’t wanted to be a father.

While the Detective went in search of a bandage, Rory carefully laid a pillow at his feet. Lucifer leaned over and asked again, “What are you doing?”

“Fixing it,” Rory replied with an earnest look. “You have to stay still so you don’t get hurt again.”

He was about to ask where she’d gotten that ridiculous idea from when the answered dawned on him. She’d gotten that idea from him.

The chaos of Rory’s first night in town flashed back to him. She had shown her wings that night, so he revealed his. And then, the Detective had fled, leaving behind two very upset angels. Rory, being on the distraught end of the scale, slipped and fell in her panic over Chloe leaving her. Her bleeding cuts had sliced through Lucifer’s anger and sent him spiraling into his own panic that had resulted in a long, desperate night of trying to keep the tiny toddler tucked up on the couch and out of harm’s way.

Just like Rory was trying to corral him now.

“Don’t move, don’t move!” his daughter called out. She ran off to her bedroom, presumably to grab another pillow or blanket. He remembered he’d grabbed so many that night. The couch had looked like a ransacked bedding store by the time the sun rose.

Chloe returned to the living room and saw he was now alone. Their eyes met for a brief instant before she looked away. “Rory, I have the bandaid now.”

“Bandaid. Bandaid. Bandaid,” Rory chanted as she ran back to her mother empty-handed.

Lucifer tried to insist, again, that he didn’t need a bandage, but the words stuck to the roof of his mouth. Held fast by emotions he couldn’t begin to name, he allowed Chloe to wipe off the blood from his fingertip and then place a bandaid over the barely visible cut.

“There, all better now,” she said for Rory’s benefit alone.

Rory disagreed. In a move she must have learned from her mother because he certainly hadn’t used it that night he’d bandaged her, his daughter leaned down and kissed his finger over the cut. Then, she grinned at him. “All better now!”

His throat squeezed tight. Somehow he managed to nod, and Rory nodded too, finally appeased. She chose to join him on the couch (though, she climbed into his lap rather than the seat beside him) and curled up against his side.

“I know! We can watch Fringe!” she exclaimed. “That will make you feel better, right Daddy?”

“… Sure.”

Rory turned that heart-crushing grin up to him again. Through cupped hands, she tried and failed to whisper, “I pinky-promise, I didn’t watch Fringe with Uncle Meni.” Then, she hopped off the couch with a parting kick to his spleen and sought out the TV remote.

Lucifer stared. His daughter loved him. That’s what the tears and the blankets and the concern were about. Somehow… against all odds and reason… she loved him.

Because she was still too innocent to realize she shouldn’t. It wasn’t like she knew anything about him. He’d abandoned her before she could have any memories of her. She only loved him because she believed that’s how children should feel about their parents, because the Detective was so good of a mother that Rory believed all parents were like her. She didn’t know the truth. That Lucifer was not a good father, that it was impossible for him to be a good father. Even if he wasn’t the Devil, who was he supposed to learn from? His father? Mother? Certainly neither of them were paragons of good parenting.

And as if that wasn’t damning enough, now the Detective believed they should be able to ‘fix’ this. Fix what, exactly? A time-travelling daughter from the future? There wasn’t a fix for that. They couldn’t send Rory back to her own timeline because no other angel could time travel. They couldn’t tell Rory to take herself home because she was three and not even allowed to use the bathroom by herself. Even if she could take herself, half the time she refused to follow instructions. They could tell her to return home and she might very well time travel to meet dinosaurs instead. What did the Detective expect them to do? The only realistic option, as far as he could see, was….

The idea arrived suddenly, yet solidified slowly. Lucifer waited, allowing it space to grow. By the time Rory had the right episode selected and returned to curl up in his lap, the idea was ready. It was bold and the consequences were unknown — but it was also their only option if they wanted to protect their daughter.

Chapter Text

The demands of the outside world didn’t stop for personal crises. Chloe received an order from Pierce to escort a witness to the precinct. It was tempting to argue that was below her pay grade — she was a detective, not a uni — but she’d have to leave the penthouse to pick up Trixie from school later anyway. What difference would a couple of hours make? Rory was content, happily curled up beside Lucifer to watch TV. No more tears. And Lucifer hadn’t moved in twenty minutes. He spared a few smiles for Rory when she squealed at something disgusting happening in Fringe, but that was just the parent mask to convince the children everything was okay. Underneath it, he was a stone wall.

Hopefully, whatever had driven him to pick a fight with the mob was back under control. As impatient and worried as Chloe was, they wouldn’t be able to discuss his reckless confrontation until after the kids were asleep. So, she agreed to Pierce’s request. She picked up the witness across town and drove them to the precinct for a line-up. A short time later, she drove them back to their home. All of it was done on autopilot. Chloe wasn’t even sure which case the witness was for, just that it wasn’t hers. Her caseload was still empty.

Her thoughts kept circling time travel and her impossible daughter from the future. There was so much they didn’t understand — for all of them, not just her. Both Lucifer and Amenadiel had same thing when confronted with Rory being from the future: angels can’t time travel. But clearly one angel could. One precious, half-angel toddler who wasn’t even aware she’d travelled anywhere. She thought she was still at home, in her own time. That’s why she’d been so confused those first few days when she’d found her bedroom and preferred car seat missing. If Chloe had kept Rory at her apartment where Rory clearly lived in the future, her daughter might still be upset. But they’d been staying at Lucifer’s place where everything was new to her. She couldn’t recognize the discrepancies and realize she was in the wrong year.

Because she didn’t know Lucifer in the future.

Chloe shook the doubts away. There was an explanation for Lucifer’s absence from Rory’s life. There was an explanation for all of this, and if literal angels couldn’t give her answers, then she’d have to do her own research.

Her detour on the way to the school forced her to the back of the pick-up line, but Trixie was still cheery as she plopped down into the backseat and shoved her backpack to the floorboards.

“What are these?” Trixie leaned forward to pick up a book from the passenger seat. Chloe reminded herself not to panic. There was no way Trixie would figure out she had a time-travelling baby sister just from a few book titles.

“I’m doing research for a case.”

“Time Machines: Time Travel in Physics, Metaphysics, Science Fiction,” Trixie read. Her eyes widened. “Whoa. Mom, you know that the more words there are in the title, the more boring it is, right?”

Chloe chuckled. “Yeah, I think academics get paid by the word.”

“There are so many words they used commas — as in multiple commas,” Trixie said. “Why did they use a colon, too? That looks weird.”

“They use colons to separate the title from the subtitle.”

“It has a subtitle? Like a second title?” Trixie sighed. “Oh, boy. That’s going to be such a boring book.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you don’t need to read it.”

Her daughter (her oldest daughter, her oldest) dropped the book back on the front seat and picked up another one. “Travels in Four Dimensions. Does that mean time travel, too? Because art class only teaches us about three dimensions.”

“Yes, time would be the fourth one,” Chloe said as she merged back into traffic. “Can you put the books down, please? I don’t want to lose them.”

Thankfully, Trixie obeyed without arguing. “Are you trying to solve a cold case?”

“A cold case? Why would you think that?”

“Because you have a lot of books on time travel. Are you trying to solve a murder that happened a long time ago?”

It was such a perfectly reasonable jump in logic for a ten year old to make. Creative, fit the information she had, and yet went off entirely in the wrong direction from the truth. Chloe was both proud of her daughter’s critical thinking skills and relieved she hadn’t figured out the real explanation for the time travel books.

“No, but you’re right. Time travel would certainly make solving cold cases easier.”

“So, what are you investigating?”

Chloe shook her head. “Just… something else. I can’t really talk about it, monkey. I’m sorry.”

The common excuse worked, and Trixie dropped the matter. “Oh, guess what? I got something for Rory.”

The mention of Rory spiked Chloe’s heart rate again. She doesn’t know the truth. There’s no way she could know.

“How could you get something for Rory? You were at school all day.” She narrowed her eyes at Trixie in the rearview mirror. “You were at school all day, right? No sneaking out?”

“No, I got it at school,” Trixie said in that tone that said ‘duh, Mom’. She dug something out of her bag and held it out between the seats. “Look! Isn’t it cool?”

They reached a stop light, so Chloe glanced over. Pinched between Trixie’s fingers was a small gold pin shaped like a pair of wings. “Where did you get that?”

“It’s a real pair of pilot wings!” Trixie excitedly explained. “Nola got it for flying over winter break all by herself. Like in the movies, remember? Apparently, they do that in real life, too.”

“Uh huh.” Chloe turned her attention back to the road as traffic moved forward again. “And Nola just gave you this pin?”

She had to ask. Children could be very sweet and generous with each other — before they were thrown into school for eight hours a day. Once recess became their main opportunity to socialize, freely given gifts were replaced with intense bartering that was entirely divorced from monetary value. Last year, Trixie had swapped her new pair of tennis shoes for a Switch Lite. When Dan had picked her up, he’d found her happily playing a game on it while standing barefoot on the sidewalk. They’d forced her to swap back with the other kid and then scolded her for taking someone’s game console. A tiny pin wasn’t on the same level as a Switch, but there might have been some emotional attachment to it. Chloe hoped Trixie had managed a more fair trade this time, and that she wasn’t becoming a con artist (or worse, a thief).

“No, I traded for it,” her daughter confirmed.

“Okay, but what did you trade?”

“My Little Debbie cake Dad packed in my lunch.”

Chloe frowned. “Really? A chocolate one?”

“Those are the only kind I eat,” Trixie said in that ‘duh’ tone again. Though, this didn’t make as much sense as her tone implied.

“Are you okay?” Chloe asked. “You’re not feeling sick, are you? You never give away chocolate.”

“I didn’t give it away. I traded,” Trixie said. “It’s not a big deal. We have like a hundred Little Debbie cakes at Lucifer’s.”

Ah. Her daughter wasn’t feeling sick. She was feeling flush with cash — or the dessert equivalent. “As long as it was a fair trade, and Nola won’t regret giving her pin away.”

“She won’t,” Trixie said confidently. “Her mom’s decided to cut out all processed sugar because she thinks she’ll sing better. I’m basically saving Nola’s life. I even told her I’d bring two desserts tomorrow so we can split them.”

“Well, that’s very generous of you,” Chloe said. “Especially considering how many desserts you tricked Lucifer into buying.”

“It wasn’t a trick! He said to order whatever I wanted.”

Chloe smirked and shook her head. “I’m sure Rory will like the pilot wings. You know, she got you a surprise, too.”

“Really?” Trixie lit up. “What is it?”

“Uh, it’s a surprise,” Chloe teased her. “She picked it out special for you, so I will let her tell you about it.”

“Cool!”

Lucifer eyed the stack of books Chloe carried in, but he didn’t ask about them. He did wince, though, when Trixie shouted, “Rory! I have a present for you!”

Rory shushed her over the back of the couch. “It’s moo cow!” she said, pointing to the TV where Fringe still played.

“Her favorite character is a cow we hardly see and will, in all likelihood, end up blown up, dissected, or injected with science fiction diseases to die a gruesome death,” Lucifer drawled.

A lab explosion on screen made the cow moo. Rory shouted, “Boom!” in appreciation and then giggled. “She mooed. Gene was scared.”

“Hey Rory, let’s pause the show for a second,” Chloe said.

“Yeah! I have a present for you,” Trixie repeated.

That caught Rory’s attention. “A present?”

“Yes, and don’t you have a present for Trixie, too?” Chloe said. At Rory’s puzzled frown, she prompted, “You bought it yesterday when you went out shopping with Daddy?”

She didn’t blame Rory for forgetting. The clothes shopping and toddler fashion show felt like months ago. That was Before she learned Rory was her daughter from the future, and now they were firmly in the After.

Rory grinned as she remembered the gift. She sprang up from the couch and tugged Trixie towards the bedroom. “Yes, Tee! Tee! You have to come see what I got you. Come here!”

Trixie loved the matching denim jackets. She laughed as Rory explained each and every patch, and then she presented Rory with the winged pin which Rory squealed over. Chloe helped her fix it to her own jacket, and then the girls posed in a million different ways because they couldn’t decide what looked best. Chloe snapped pictures of all of them and sent a few to Dan. He thought the girls looked adorable, too, and then, with a winking emoji, said to tell Trixie she wouldn’t actually be getting an orange convertible anytime soon.

The reminder sent Chloe spiraling again. There was an entire future that existed somewhere — not daydreamed, not planned, but actually physically existed. A place where Trixie was all grown up and driving her own car, where Rory had a half-angel cousin to play with and a different mother raising her. Someone the same as Chloe and yet not. The idea was overwhelming.

Chloe cleaned up after dinner while Lucifer handled Rory’s bath. Dividing tasks was about the only direct communication they shared that evening. She kept expecting Trixie, at the very least, to comment on the tension in the air, but she simply chatted away like things were fine. Once baths and homework were completed, the girls watched a movie together, though Rory fell asleep before the end. The poor thing didn’t budge when the credits rolled or when Trixie flipped back to the menu to find another movie to watch. She only stirred when Lucifer bent down to take her to bed. The whine she let out squeezed Chloe’s heart.

“I’ll take her.”

Gently, Chloe picked up their daughter. Rory still whined over the intrusion, but then she curled against Chloe’s shoulder and immediately quieted. Her little hand caught Chloe’s shirt and curled into a fist. The move looked so much like a natural reflex that Chloe’s chest squeezed again. Rory had probably held her shirt like that as an infant. All those middle of the night feedings or the evenings where she wouldn’t settle down, Chloe had probably cradled her exactly like this until she fell asleep.

Rory was oblivious to the world once more as they walked to the bedroom. It took a little coaxing to get her fist to release Chloe’s shirt, but then Chloe was able to gently ease her baby daughter into the toddler-sized Paw Patrol bed. She drew the covers up over Rory and pulled Roger Bear out of the corner to tuck the stuffed animal in beside her. As she finished, a shadow fell over them from the doorway.

“She’s completely out,” Chloe said without turning around.

“It must be those naps she never takes,” Lucifer replied.

She nodded, too tense to say anything more. The way Lucifer hovered made her nervous. They still needed to talk about things, and he seemed to be choosing to have the discussion now. Chloe had planned to wait until both children were in bed.

So, she stalled. She brushed Rory’s hair back away from her face. Half of it was sweaty from where she’d slept against the couch, and a few strands refused to be moved, giving Chloe cover to move even slower. But soon that was done too. Out of excuses, she dropped a kiss to the top of Rory’s head and murmured, “I love you, my baby girl. Sleep tight.”

Lucifer still stood in the doorway. “I know what to do.”

Chloe directed him back into the hallway. After partially closing the bedroom door, she folded her arms over her chest and finally asked, “Why did you go after Frankie Ferrante?”

Lucifer waved his hand. “Forget about that.”

“Forget-!” Chloe dropped her voice so they wouldn’t wake Rory. “Forget about it? You risked getting yourself shot! No, you did get shot!”

“Yes, I did,” Lucifer said like he was confirming a breakfast order. “And I also figured out how to fix this time travel snafu we’ve found ourselves in.”

But Chloe couldn’t shake the image of Lucifer’s torn shirt. The last time she’d seen him shot, he’d nearly bled out (had bled out?) on the floor of an airplane hangar before miraculously rising up like nothing had ever happened — but the blood had still been there, staining his shirt, his suit, the floor. Today, there’d been nothing.

“How are you standing here?” she asked.

“What?”

“You’re okay, but you were shot, Lucifer. I heard it. I saw it!”

“Well, not up close, it seems, if I’m fine.”

“No! Don’t you dare blame this on me. That was your stupidity that took you to Frankie’s—“

“Forget about Frankie Ferrante!” Lucifer said, voice rising. He dropped it again at Chloe’s glare. “You’re not listening. You wanted to fix this all for Rory, right? Well, I have the solution.”

Chloe crossed her arms again and listened.

“We keep Rory in the present with us.”

She nodded slowly. “Oh, right. Ignore the problem. Of course. It’s your same solution for everything!”

“No!” Lucifer let out a frustrated sigh. “We keep her in the present to change the future. Whatever happened in her time can’t still happen if she stays with us the entire time.”

Once Chloe could wrap her brain around what sounded like a twisting riddle, her first thought was ‘no’. No, they couldn’t just keep her in the present and pretend the future disappears. It seemed too simple, for starters. They were dealing with angels and powers and time travelling. It couldn’t really be that easy to fix, could it?

“What happens if she time travels again?”

“Well, that’s another reason we should keep her here,” Lucifer said. “She can’t even leave the room without our supervision. Obviously, we can’t trust her to take herself back to her own time.”

“But how do we explain it to Trixie?” Chloe pushed. “Do we lie to her and let her grow up never knowing that’s her baby sister? And what about Rory? Trixie can drive in her future. She thinks Trixie is older than she is.”

“She’s adjusted fine so far.”

“That could change. She might think this is some strange vacation right now, but what happens if she starts insisting on going home? She’s already asking about people we don’t recognize and a cousin that doesn’t exist. What are we supposed to tell her?”

“Nothing,” Lucifer said. “All the parenting books assure that toddlers are quite resilient to change.”

Chloe was shaking her head before he even finished the sentence. “Not parenting books.” She scoffed. “This isn’t your average three year old. We’re dealing with angel powers! How do you, the angel, not get that?”

“That’s how I know this is the best plan!”

“No, you don’t! You’re guessing because up until this point, no angel had ever time travelled.”

Their voices were rising again. Chloe swallowed back the rest of her annoyance and pushed past him to get out of the hallway. This, right here, was exactly why she’d bought every book on time travel she could find. Lucifer didn’t have real answers (at least none he felt like sharing), and he would rather stick his head in the sand than try and track down real answers. Chloe, on the other hand, was a detective. Investigating was her damn job.

Lucifer followed her through the living room and over to the bar, still arguing in a low voice. “I don’t see the problem. We’d get to keep Rory. Isn’t that what you want?”

The implication that she didn’t want to keep Rory infuriated her, and Chloe whirled on him. “Of course, I want that. I want Rory safe with me more than anything in the world.”

“Safe, exactly! If she stays in the present, we’ll be able to keep her safe. There’s no guarantee what will happen if we send her away.”

This felt too much like a manipulative ploy to prey on her fears, and Chloe stared off at the wall of whiskey bottles, fuming. But then Lucifer added in a more vulnerable tone. “I don’t want to lose our daughter, either.”

Chloe whipped her eyes up to meet his and scrutinized every micro-expression on his face. Her anger and the fact he’d run off to get himself shot by the mob said he could still be manipulating her. But his ever-growing patience with Rory and his genuine heartbreak last night after they’d learned he wasn’t a part of Rory’s future said this wasn’t an act. Not a half truth masking something else. It was a truth he fully meant.

That still didn’t change all the unknowns in his plan.

“We need proof that she’ll be safe, and that we won’t break time somehow by keeping her with us.”

Lucifer frowned. “How are we supposed to do that?”

“Well, my plan was to start with these.” Chloe picked up the time travel books off the counter.

“Now what makes your books any better than mine?” Lucifer whined. “They’re still not about angels.”

“Yeah, well, apparently only humans have ever considered the possibility of time travel, so this human is going to go research an actual way to help our daughter.”

“Just you, then?” Lucifer said as she turned for the stairs.

“I need—“ to get out of this conversation, “— space. For like an hour, okay? You think you stay up here on your own for an hour or do you have another mobster to chase down?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer. “Just keep an eye out for Rory wandering around. She sometimes wakes up during the night.”

Lucifer watched the Detective disappear downstairs. “’Only humans have considered time travel,’” he quoted. “Well, maybe she gets it from your side then!” It was obvious Chloe had no faith in him as a parent (if she had any faith left in him at all), but he’d come up with a plan! A way to fix the future just like she’d wanted. And she’d immediately dismissed it.

He needed a stiff drink. Or perhaps the whole bottle. He turned back for the bar — but a pair of beady little eyes caught him in the act. They stared at him over the back of the couch, so creepily devoid of emotion that it was no wonder so many horror movies were set around children. Lucifer stared back and checked the creature’s height. Too tall. Trixie, then. Not Rory already awake again.

“What’s wrong?” Trixie asked.

“Why aren’t you in bed yet?” Lucifer countered, even though he was fully aware her designated bedtime wasn’t for another hour. An hour and a half if she’d won her nightly negotiation with the Detective.

“You were fighting with my mom.”

“We weren’t fighting. The Detective and I are actually in complete agreement.” He was a shitty father who was well on his way to outdoing God for the shittiest parent award. “We were just venting that in different ways.”

The annoyingly insightful Urchin tilted her mouth in a frown. “Lucifer,” she said, “I know what whisper fights look like. My parents had a lot of them before they got divorced.”

Well… fuck.

“Obviously, you don’t have to worry about that. Your mother and I aren’t married.”

“But you’re partners,” Trixie unnecessarily pointed out. Why did children insist on stating the obvious?

Lucifer gestured at the television and forced a subject change. “Are you watching anything or are you just going to scroll through menus all night?”

Trixie let him take the remote, though he had about as much desire to watch TV right now as he had to further debate what whisper fighting meant with the Detective’s offspring.

(The oldest offspring, that is. He had an offspring with the Detective now, as well. A child who was also too precocious and too clever and possessed a too large knack for causing trouble.)

He resumed Trixie’s endless scrolling through the streaming services’ menus in an effort to distract himself. It kept his hands occupied the same way a glass of whiskey or cigarette would, but had the potential bonus of irritating the girl with his indecision. She deserved a bit of torture for eavesdropping on the Devil.

“Lucifer?”

“My house, my remote.”

“Can I still teach Rory all about kindergarten when she’s older?”

The question threw Lucifer off guard. He stopped scrolling. “What?”

Trixie explained, “I promised Rory I would teach her all the ins and outs of school when she’s old enough to start kindergarten. It’s really important for the little kids to have a big kid around so they don’t get lost. And I’d be a sixth grader by then, so I’d know everything about elementary school. And I could protect her from getting bullied — not that I think Rory will need help with that. I’m pretty sure she’d be able to handle the big kid jerks no problem.”

“Yes.” His daughter was tiny but already had no problem standing up to fully grown angel jerks. Little human children would never be an issue for her. “But why are you asking for permission?”

“Because,” Trixie said. “Just in case you and my mom whisper fight so much you stop working together. If that happens, you and Rory won’t be around as much, and I might not see her when she starts kindergarten.”

The Urchin was far more prophetic in her concerns than she realized. As it currently stood, Lucifer would walk out of her life at some point — but Rory wouldn’t. She’d still be with Chloe in the future, which meant she’d still be with Trixie. The girls were sisters, whether Trixie knew that or not, and they’d never be separated.

Forcing a smile, Lucifer said, “I promise you can still teach Rory about kindergarten. Then, together, you two can terrorize every bully in the playground.”

“Well…” Trixie dragged out, “we’re not supposed to terrorize them.”

He raised his eyebrow in a silent ‘I won’t tell if you don’t’ gesture. The girl smirked.

“We’re going to be unstoppable.”

For some reason, this statement hit him harder than anything the Detective had ever shouted or whisper-shouted at him. It sunk claws deep into his chest, wrapped around his lungs, and squeezed until he couldn’t breathe. To put it plainly, something about the statement hurt.

It was the idea of his daughter growing up: getting taller, older, stronger. More assured, more clever — more stubborn, even, and Dad knew she was already stubborn enough.

And Lucifer not witnessing any of it.

Unwilling to reveal this to a nosy, miscreant child, he shoved the hurt aside with another subject change. “Speaking of school, where’s your homework?”

Trixie frowned in confusion. “I did it already.”

“Yes, but you’re supposed to prove that before you go to bed.” To his relief, the girl’s frowned deepened. Torturing the girl with homework was even more effective than channel surfing.

“But I already said I did it.”

“That’s not the routine. You have to get your backpack and lay out all your homework to prove it’s really done.”

“Seriously?” Trixie asked. “But that’s Mom’s job.”

“Except your mother is busy right now, so where’s your homework?”

The stubborn Urchin stared him down for nearly as long as Rory would have before surrendering with a large huff.

“You weren’t supposed to be this far into the Dad List yet,” she grumped as she marched off to fetch her backpack. Lucifer hoped she wouldn’t explain what a ‘dad list’ was. He felt certain he didn’t want to know.

Trixie returned and began laying out her school books on the coffee table. “Look, math is done. Science is done. Spelling is done.”

“You’re showing me books. Where’s the homework?”

With another huff, Trixie opened up the books and pointedly showed off her scribbled on notebook paper, flipping it over front and back to prove it was finished. Lucifer couldn’t actually tell if the pages were complete from that, and he didn’t care. Her word was good enough until he spotted two blank pages as she riffled through her spelling workbook.

“Hold on. Why did you skip those? They look like the same section as your other pages.”

“Uh oh.” Trixie flashed him a guilty look. “The pages must have stuck together! I didn’t mean to skip them!”

Lucifer said, “I see why your mother checks your homework now.”

Again, he didn’t actually care whether Trixie’s homework was finished or not. But the Detective had already fought with him enough over the pile of trouble Rory had caused (and… potentially… his own actions). Lucifer had no desire to be yelled at about Trixie as well. So he instructed the girl to fill in the missing spelling pages.

“Can I have a snack with it?”

“I suppose.”

The Detective would likely say no this close to the Urchin’s bedtime, but Lucifer thought a snack would keep the girl’s mouth too busy to talk, at least for a few minutes. He was proven wrong when Trixie instantly turned the torturing tables around on him by hemming and hawing in front of the kitchen cabinet, debating — out loud, by the way — what snack would be most satisfying. He should never have given her permission to set foot in his penthouse, let alone eat from his kitchen.

“Just pick one, already!”

“It’s the last snack of the day. It has to be good.”

It took ten minutes of perusing followed by one packet of Gushers and a brownie — “It’s all one snack. Really,” Trixie claimed as she smashed the Gushers into the top of the brownie. — before the spelling workbook was fully completed. They stayed in the kitchen, though, as Trixie chatted about her other classes. First, she shared which teachers were her favorites, and then, she ranked homework assignments from best to worst, as well. Despite the forgotten pages, spelling homework actually fell on the better end of the scale (“It’s super easy.”) while English grammar drills and group projects ranked at the bottom.

“Everyone’s given the same grade even if you don’t all give the same effort?” Lucifer asked. “That’s a terrible policy. Who designed it?”

Trixie shrugged. “Teachers.”

They were still sitting at the island, now swapping ideas for how to replace the school system all together, when Chloe walked in. Trixie grimaced when her mother’s eyes landed on the spelling book.

“I thought your homework was done,” Chloe said.

“The pages stuck together,” Lucifer explained.

Trixie eagerly nodded in agreement. “But they’re finished now! Honest!”

A smile tugged at Chloe’s mouth. “Good. Thank you for double checking.”

“Lucifer made me,” Trixie snitched. With a sigh, she added, “That’s number twenty-seven on the Dad List. I never thought I’d see the day.”

Chloe chuckled and dropped a kiss on Trixie’s head. “It looks like he snuck you an extra brownie, too.” She gestured at the crumb-littered plate sitting by the sink.

Lucifer replied, “That negotiation was totally above board.”

Trixie frowned. “Does that mean not sneaky?” When he nodded, she turned back to her mother. “Yeah, it was completely above board.”

Still smirking, Chloe ordered the Urchin to go brush her teeth. While they ran through the oldest child’s nightly bedtime ritual, Lucifer cleaned up the kitchen and returned Trixie’s backpack to its spot by the elevator where she wouldn’t forget it in the morning. Then, he stood at the bar, debating if a glass of whiskey would ease the perpetual pit in his stomach before he decided ‘fuck it’ and poured himself a glass anyway. Even with Chloe nearby, his angelic metabolism dulled the alcohol’s effects. The familiarity of his own evening ritual, though, calmed him more than his earlier fidgeting with the remote.

He was on his third sip when Chloe found him. Initially, they both stayed silent, though plenty of inane small talk pressed at the back of his throat, begging for a way out. For the first time in his very long life, empty words seemed like a reasonable way to break the tension. Storm clouds brewed in the distance, and he wasn’t sure what new argument they would bring.

“We don’t know what actually happens in the future,” Chloe finally said. “You might not be gone.”

This was where they were starting round two this evening, with pure bullshit? Lucifer shook his head. “You accused me of ignoring the problem not even an hour ago and now you’re choosing denial? Make up your mind, Detective.”

“Look, Rory is our daughter and an angel, yes. But she’s also a three year old. Not some infallible soothsayer.”

“She didn’t recognize me,” Lucifer reminded her. “She had no idea who I was.”

“No, she was scared you were your twin brother. That’s different.”

Not in his eyes, though it did raise the question of whether Michael had met his daughter when he never had. Lucifer didn’t think he could bare the insult.

Chloe continued, “For all we know, that’s why Rory time travelled. Maybe your brother was trying to kidnap her, too.”

“Unlikely,” Lucifer scoffed. His brother was probably up in the Silver City maniacally laughing over his misfortune.

“Did you think your sister would try it before she broke in here?”

Lucifer dropped his glass to the bar and ran his hand over his face. “Why are we discussing what happens in the future? None of it matters if we just keep Rory in the present with us.”

“If that’s even an option.”

He rolled his eyes. “Do you remember what happened when you were three? She’ll forget. She’ll adjust. So what if Trixie is younger than she was before or that her toys and clothes are different? This will be her life now.” A life that included him, guaranteed. No questions. No unknowns. No chance to screw it up. He’d already be here. He’d missed three years, but he didn’t have to miss the rest of her life.

Chloe paced away from the bar. Lucifer prepared himself for more concerns and counter-arguments: what if being half-angel meant Rory never forgot her old life, what if keeping her actually erased her because she would never be born? He was well aware of the tropes, but they came from movies. Not real life. They might not have proof that keeping Rory with them would work — but they also didn’t have proof it wouldn’t.

“You know what actually scares me the most?” Chloe walked back to him. “Rory is real, right? She’s so real, and physically she’s here with us — but that makes her future just as real as her. It exists somewhere too, like physically exists, even if we can’t reach it.” She took a shaky breath. “And that’s what scares me. Thinking there might be another version of me living in that future who has no where her daughter is right now and no way to find her…. I’d be terrified.”

Lucifer’s plan shattered like a dropped glass as Chloe brushed off the tears that had been pooling in her eyes. In that moment, he realized how wrong he was. He’d been trying to solve the wrong problem, how to keep Rory with him so he couldn’t abandon her, but all along the real issue he should have been focused on was how to ensure Rory stayed with Chloe. He’d never even considered whether their future selves were separate people. Never thought about their future selves at all, other than to curse himself for abandoning them. He’d been too concerned with his own self in the present. But if there was another Chloe Decker out there, worried and scared for her daughter, then of course they needed to fix that. Chloe needed her daughter, and Rory needed her mother. Lucifer remembered how she’d cried nonstop that first night because she’d missed Chloe. She’d fallen apart without her mother. But she had survived just fine without her father.

There were still risks and losses if they sent Rory back to her own time, though, so he had to give the alternative one last chance. “Her old future would fade away like it never existed.”

“But we don’t know that,” Chloe said, cutting right through his weak argument. “Do we?”

She wanted him to have the answers. To reassure her. He was an angel, as she kept pointing out. He should know these things.

But he didn’t, so he promised her the only thing he could. “Detective, you are not losing Rory. I won’t let that happen.”

Chloe shook her head. “If we send her back, I lose her, too. No matter what happens, we’re going to lose her…. Aren’t we?”

Lucifer couldn’t bear to confirm this — but denying it would be a lie. Instead, he stayed silent.

Chapter Text

It was past time for Rory to provide some proper answers. So the next morning, Lucifer sat the little rugrat down for breakfast and stared her down across the kitchen island.

“What year are you from?”

Rory pinched a bit of scrambled egg between her fingers and held it out to him.

“No. What’s the year?” he repeated. “At least, what year do you think it is?”

“Egg!”

Lucifer considered his options. “I’ll eat the egg if you tell me what year it is.”

“Um… yesterday?”

“Technically correct,” he conceded. “But how many yesterdays? What year are you from?”

As an answer, Rory yanked the scrambled egg back and popped it into her mouth. She grinned. “Mine now!”

“I didn’t want it anyway.”

“Yeah, I don’t either. I’m all done now, thank you.” The little imp pushed her plate away and daringly hopped down from the barstool without waiting for assistance.

“Rory!” Lucifer called after her as she sprinted out of the kitchen. “Rory!”

He trailed her into the living room where Trixie sat on the couch, tying her shoes. The Urchin smiled when she saw them.

“Rory! Do you want to play airplane with me?”

“No running,” Lucifer preemptively ordered. The airplane game only required the girls to spread their arms out wide as they pretended to fly about, and yet for some reason the twin troubles believed it was also necessary to sprint at top speed.

Rory turned around to grunt her annoyance, so he said, “Then, you need your shoes on, too. You can’t run on these floors with only socks on.”

The little imp scrunched up her nose in annoyance. “No.” And then broke into a full run to chase after Trixie.

Lucifer sighed and turned to Chloe for back-up — but she was oblivious to their daughter’s disobedience. Her full attention was taken up by a trail of papers scattered across the bar.

“I thought we didn’t have a case anymore after Pierce gave it away.”

Without looking up, Chloe replied, “This isn’t a case. It’s Rory’s transcript.”

“Transcript of what?”

“The interview Linda and Dan did with her before we knew she’d travelled from the future. Linda typed up everything along with her own observations.”

Now, Lucifer understood. “You’re looking for clues, too. Trying to figure out what year she’s from.”

“Not exactly,” Chloe said. “I’m just… looking for clues in general, I guess.”

Lucifer checked on the girls — Trixie led Rory around at a pace faster than a walk, but not quite a run — and then he joined Chloe at the bar. The pages of the interview looked like they had been flipped through and pulled back together out of order. Here and there, a line had been circled with notes scrawled in the margins in Chloe’s handwriting. The Detective had been at work for a while this morning. “What have you found so far?”

“Nothing that makes sense.”

“Yes, Rory hasn’t given us much to go on,” Lucifer said. “She knows her name and birthday, but everything else seems beyond her.”

Although… now that he thought about it, Rory continually asserted that it was the middle of summer when (here in 2018, at least) it was actually February. She was LA born and raised as they now knew, so it couldn’t be the sun and palm trees making her mix up the seasons. Perhaps, she had given them more clues than they’d realized.

“What are the things that don’t make sense?” he asked.

Chloe flipped over to an earlier page. “Like this. Look, she corrected her grammar here. She said ‘can I have another cookie.’ Linda said you may and then Rory apologized for using the wrong word.”

“And the significance of that?”

“I’ve never corrected Trixie on grammar,” Chloe said. “Vocabulary, yes. And I get after her if she’s using curse words when she shouldn’t. But the difference between ‘can I’ and ‘may I’? I’ve never bothered with things like that. They’re not important enough to worry about.”

“Says the homeschooled child actor.”

Chloe narrowed her eyes, and Lucifer smiled to prove he was teasing. Mollified, the Detective picked up a different part of the transcript.

“The stuff she said about Charlie is more concrete, but not by much. She said he’s ‘only a little bit’ older than her. Since it seems like they play together a lot and knowing how younger kids think, I’m assuming Charlie’s between the ages of three and five. Six, maybe if he hasn’t started school yet, because school is a big milestone. A kindergartner would seem like a really big kid to a three year old.”

Lucifer didn’t see how the age of Rory’s cousin could help them when that child also hadn’t been born yet. “She also said Amenadiel and Linda were Charlie’s parents.”

Chloe nodded. “Yeah, I remember, although Linda didn’t include that part in her notes.”

“But did you tell Amenadiel yesterday?”

“About Charlie?” The Detective sounded surprised by the question. “No, it seemed smarter to keep that part quiet. Why?”

Lucifer scoffed. “That part and yet you told him about time travel.”

The Detective glared. “Because I assumed you already had.”

“Why would I tell him?”

“Um, because he’s an angel and Rory’s here because of her angel power,” Chloe said as if she didn’t see the obvious flaw in that logic.

“It’s called spoilers,” Lucifer reminded her. “You’re from the movie industry. You should understand the concept.”

Chloe faked a laugh. “Oh right, because it’s my background that’s most relevant right now.”

“Well, no angel has ever written and filmed a movie about time travel,” Lucifer countered. “It’s a human invention.”

The Detective shut her eyes and inhaled deeply. This was her telltale sign she wanted to shoot him again, but she had no reason to be upset with him over this. He was completely in the right to not tell Amenadiel about time travel. They had no reason to pull his brother into this yet, especially if they wanted to keep Rory’s future in tact. The Detective should understand that. She’d certainly seemed worried about the future last night.

Chloe shook her head. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I don’t think Amenadiel even knows Rory has a cousin, let alone that the cousin is his future son. And Linda heard about Charlie, but she doesn’t remember it. So we just won’t remind her.”

“Linda’s not the problem. She still believes Rory grew up here in the present.”

An odd expression crossed the Detective’s face. A confession, though not a guilty one. More like… defiantly unremorseful.

“You told Linda that Rory time travelled?” Lucifer stared in disbelief. “When?”

“Yesterday when I went to see her,” Chloe admitted.

“Yesterday!” He threw up his hands. “Did you place an ad on the radio while you were at it? Purchase a billboard off the I-5? No, I know! Sky-writers. That’s a much more appropriate way to announce the arrival of an angel from the future.”

Chloe lowered her voice and hissed, “You cannot seriously be angry with me, right now.”

“Oh yes, I can!”

“I felt like I was losing my mind yesterday! And maybe I did lose my mind because silly me, I thought talking it out with someone about how crazy time travel is might make me feel better. But no. Clearly, I should’ve gotten into a shoot out with the mob instead.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“When you get half a dozen bullet holes in you, no, I’m not going to let that go.”

“I came away with zero bullet holes,” he corrected. “It was only my shirt that was ruined.”

“Because that’s better!” Chloe snapped.

“Speaking as someone who’s been shot before, yes, it is.”

“Would you like me to shoot you again? Because I can do that.”

“What, in front of the children?” Lucifer pointed towards the two tiny humans still darting around the living room.

It was a simple gesture: raising his hand and closing his fingers to point. It required a mere tenth of a second to complete, and it only took that long because of how much sarcasm he poured into it. But in that simple, tenth of a second, chaos unleashed. One moment, the children were pretending to have wings so they could fly like airplanes. The next, two very real wings sprouted from Rory’s back.

Panic took control.

“No!”

“Trixie!”

He and Chloe rushed forward in unison. He grabbed Rory and pushed her further away, praying the Urchin wouldn’t catch a glimpse and trusting Chloe to keep the girl occupied.

“What’d we do?” Trixie asked, indignantly.

“Nothing,” Chloe said. “Uh… we just need to head to school now. Come on.”

Meanwhile, Lucifer hissed at Rory, “Put your wings away.” A deep frown crossed the little imp’s brow. “I said put them away!”

“No.”

“It’s against the rules. Your mother has rules, remember?”

“Only at home—“

“And are you at home right now?” Lucifer fought the urge to pin her wings down himself. Why couldn’t the girl listen to him, just once? Why did she have to come from a future he wasn’t a part of? “No, you’re not, so put them away, now!”

For a long, long second, Rory held her frown — then, her stubbornness cracked. Her face crumpled as she shrugged her wings away, and large, wet tears pooled in her eyes.

“Mommy!” she sobbed.

Oh, no. This was worse. Rory crying was much worse, not least because it would attract Trixie’s attention. Though, the wings were gone now. That made it worth it, didn’t it? They’d told her she couldn’t have her wings out around Trixie. Hadn’t they told her?

“Mommy!”

Always, when Rory was angry over something Lucifer ordered her to do, the girl ran off crying to her mother. And every time, the crying was a performance. Her eyes never shed a single tear, no matter how hard she wailed.

But not this time. These tears were as real as her wings, and she stood frozen in place like she was too hurt to move. Like Lucifer had scared her, not angered her.

“What’s wrong?” Trixie asked. Chloe tried to stop her from turning around, but once she saw that Rory had put her wings away, she let the oldest go and rushed over.

“Oh, baby.”

“Mommy!”

Lucifer backed away. Chloe dropped to her knees. Their daughter didn’t budge until Chloe’s arms wrapped around her, and then Rory collapsed against her chest. Her tiny, little fists closed around Chloe’s shirt and clung on for dear life.

This was so much worse than when Rory had bit through her lip that first night. This time, her tears were Lucifer’s fault. He had truly scared her. Hurt her. And the worst part was he didn’t even know how he’d done it. Was it the order to put her wings away? The commanding tone he’d used? Or had she’d been frightened by the realization that the penthouse wasn’t home?

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay,” Chloe soothed, but Rory’s tears didn’t slow.

Trixie joined them. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Chloe said. “Everything’s fine. Do you have your things ready to go? We need to leave soon.”

Lucifer checked the time. The Detective was right. If Trixie was going to school today, someone would have to leave now to get her there on time — but he couldn’t see how Chloe could be that someone. Rory’s grip was too strong, her heart too broken. She’d never let Chloe out of sight long enough to let her drive.

“I think we’re trading offspring today.”

Chloe didn’t understand, so he added, “I can drive her.”

Now, Chloe nodded. “Okay.” She stood up, still cradling their daughter to her chest. “Trixie, go get your backpack. Lucifer’s going to take you to school.”

Trixie hesitated. “In his good car or the boring car?”

“Just get your backpack, please.” As the Urchin complied, Chloe turned back to Lucifer. “I’ll call off work today. I don’t have any cases, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

She kissed Rory’s temple and rubbed gentle circles across the girl’s back. Lucifer felt a sharp tug of yearning. He wished he could be the one to comfort their daughter instead of being the reason for her tears.

Chloe said, “I guess this answers one question.”

He blinked in confusion. “Which question?”

“How much Trixie knows in the future.”

Oh. He hadn’t given the subject any thought. He’d simply assumed Trixie was as unaware of the celestial world as she was now, but that couldn’t be right. Rory hadn’t disobeyed her mother once during the entire two weeks she’d been with them. Argued, constantly. Pleaded to bend the rules, yes. But she’d never intentionally broken them. And if Chloe in the future had said Rory could only have her wings out when she was at home with no one else around, and Rory had revealed her wings in front of Trixie — then that implied Trixie didn’t count against the ‘no one else around’ clause. In the future, she must be fully aware that her baby sister was an angel.

But today’s Trixie walked over to them, backpack now in hand, and innocently asked, “Is she okay? Why is she still crying?”

“She’s just upset, monkey,” Chloe said.

“But why? I promise we were just playing.”

When Chloe faltered, Lucifer replied instead.

“Because she misses home.”

After Lucifer left to take Trixie to school, Chloe paced the penthouse. She continued to murmur words of comfort into Rory’s ear, her stomach tightening with every second. It wasn’t the crying that worried her. Rory was only three years old and experiencing big emotions for the very first time. Of course, she would cry when she couldn’t have things her way. No, the silence with the tears was what scared Chloe. Rory was incredibly chatty and well spoken for her age, and oh, did she make use of it. Every tantrum brought with it a litany of complaints, accusations, and begging — and when all those failed, stomping. But now, it was like the fight had drained out of her. Her little girl was too upset to yell or stomp. This time, all she could do was cry.

“I know, baby,” Chloe said. “It’s not fair that you had to put your wings away. I’m sorry you have to hide them right now. I’m really sorry.”

There were so many extra challenges that came with raising an angel child. Every hour, Chloe seemed to think of another one. She’d already been worried that Rory would reveal her wings at the wrong time. They had popped out so casually during that first tantrum, after all. So, every time they took Rory out in public, Chloe kept her eyes peeled and braced herself for Rory to lose control again — but the worst never happened. Rory always followed the rules, especially in public. Her mother had coached her well.

Except Chloe was her mother. And she was proud of that and grateful and so indescribably happy that Rory belonged to her. But this new knowledge that she alone was responsible for keeping Rory’s angelic nature hidden from the world weighed heavily on her. What if she couldn’t manage it? What if she wasn’t enough to protect her daughter? It was easy enough to tell herself that she didn’t have a choice, that she was the girl’s mother so she would have to be enough. But when Rory was an angel with wings and time travel powers, how could an ordinary human ever actually keep her safe?

Chloe paced through the main floor of the penthouse again. One moment, her mind panicked over the memory of Lucifer’s sister attempting to steal Rory. In the next, she reminded herself how she’d stopped Malcolm Graham when he’d kidnapped Trixie. She could stop anyone who threatened Rory, too, and if that meant fighting off immortal angels — or hell, even God, himself — then, fine. Mere human or not, Chloe would fight and she would make damn sure they regretted ever crossing her.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” she told Rory. “I’m still here. I know things are different now, but Mommy’s still here.”

Soon enough, her arm grew sore from carrying Rory’s weight, so she turned them back towards the living room. “Here, let’s go sit down, baby girl. Does that sound good?”

Rory still had an iron grip on Chloe’s shirt. The neckline would probably end up stretched out, but at least her tears had slowed. However, when Chloe moved to sit down on the couch, she swiftly learned her shirt wasn’t the only thing caught in Rory’s grip.

“Ow! Ow, ow, hang on… hang on, monkey.”

One of Rory’s fists had captured Chloe’s necklace. It was just a simple chain today. Nothing expensive, and it didn’t hold any special meaning. Still, Chloe didn’t want it to snap while she was wearing it. That could potentially hurt Rory, and it wouldn’t feel great for Chloe, either. She tried to coax Rory to let go, but her daughter only tugged harder.

“Monkey, please —ah! Can you let go of Mommy’s necklace, please? That hurts.”

With the abruptness of a toddler, Rory dropped the necklace, and Chloe was able to sit down without risking strangulation.

“There we go. Thank you, baby. That’s much better.”

Tears still drying on her cheeks, Rory lunged for Chloe’s hand. Chloe thought she wanted them to hold hands, but when she tried, Rory yanked her own hand away. Then, she grabbed Chloe’s again and flipped it over. She searched her palm for something and whined when she came up empty.

“What are you looking for?”

Rory whined again and flipped Chloe’s hand back the other way. She poked at Chloe’s fingers in frustration, still clearly searching for something.

“What is it, baby? What do you want?” Chloe asked again.

“Mommy’s ring.”

“My ring?” Chloe frowned. She hadn’t regularly worn any rings since her divorce. Yet, Rory seemed to expect she would have one on now…. Did that mean something?

“Which ring are you looking for? What does it look like?”

“Your ring!” Rory twisted to check Chloe’s left hand, but as soon as she found it unadorned as well, she twisted back to the right. “It’s gone!”

“Maybe we can find it. What does it look like?”

“It’s gone!”

Rory grew more frantic in her search. Chloe tried to reassure her.

“The ring’s not gone, baby. I think we just left it at home.”

With a screech, a new wave of tears broke free.

“I’m sorry! I’m really sorry that I don’t have my ring right now,” Chloe said. It seemed that Rory liked to play with her jewelry when she was upset. Her future self probably found the quirk sweet, but in the present, Chloe only felt that clawing fear of letting her daughter down. She searched for some way to fix this. “Here, let’s see if we can find you something else to play with.”

She picked her up again. Rory flailed in her unhappiness. The fight had returned along with her voice. “I want your ring. I want Mommy’s ring,” was the running mantra as Chloe took them back to their bedroom.

“I know, monkey. I know, but let’s try something else.”

She picked up Lucifer’s necklace from the top of the dresser: the one he’d given her for her birthday. Letting her daughter play with the bullet she shot the girl’s father with was maybe an odd choice — but everything was odd these days, and Chloe was desperate.

“What about this one?” She held up the necklace. “Do you recognize this necklace?”

“No!” Rory batted it away.

“You don’t… you don’t know what this necklace is?”

Rory reached for it when Chloe brought it closer the second time. She pinched the dangling bullet between her fingers and slid her thumb over the dent.

“Daddy gave me that necklace. Did you know that?”

“No.” Still, holding the bullet, Rory leaned out to scan the top of the dresser. “Where’s your ring?”

“I’m sorry, baby. I don’t have my ring right now.”

“Why?” Rory asked, sadly.

Chloe didn’t know what to say. Surely, she couldn’t always be wearing a ring in the future. The only ring she’d ever worn consistently was her wedding ring with Dan. But that wasn’t related. Rory kept searching her right hand for the ring. If there was an engagement or wedding ring in the future, Rory would be searching her left hand.

“Where do I usually wear my ring, monkey?”

“It’s your ring.”

“But which hand do I wear it on? What does it look like?”

“Right here.” Rory pointed to Chloe’s right hand again. “It’s white like my wings.”

Chloe’s breath caught. “White like your wings?” she repeated. The ring was special, then. It was something she wore just for Rory. “Oh… I see why you like it. I promise that ring is safe at home. But maybe today you can play with the necklace instead. Okay?”

Wide, brown eyes locked on her. They were deceptively deep. Fathomless. They claimed to know every secret of the world when in reality they belonged to a little girl. And at three years old, her world was still very, very small.

Which was why Chloe was disappointed but not shocked when Rory abruptly twisted around and tossed the necklace to the floor.

“No!” her daughter shouted. She pressed her face against Chloe’s shoulder and cried, “Why’d you lose it?”

Chloe hugged her tightly and rubbed more circles over her back. “It’s not lost, I promise. It’s just at home right now. That ring is back at home.”

No matter what she tried, no other jewelry could replace the ring Rory wanted. Eventually, they compromised on Roger Bear and a fresh cup of juice, and then finally… finally… Rory began to settle. The necklace from Lucifer stayed on the bedroom floor, but Chloe’s thoughts returned to it again and again. Maybe in the future, she could have been angry enough at Lucifer to hide the necklace from Rory or to even get rid of it. Or maybe she simply didn’t wear the necklace often enough for Rory to notice. It wasn’t like Chloe wore it every day now. Honestly, it was just a silly, joke birthday gift to begin with, and the explanation for it didn’t make an appropriate bedtime story. So, why would Rory know about it? The fact that she didn’t recognize it didn’t mean anything.

It probably didn’t mean anything.

Lucifer stoically endured five floors of the Urchin pleading before he swapped his keys for the Corvette.

“Yes!” Trixie cheered as they left the elevator. She ran over to the recently-neglected, ‘good’ car and dumped her backpack into the passenger seat without bothering to open the door. Then, the pain in the ass had the nerve to ask, “Can I drive, too? Mom’s not looking.”

“Absolutely not. I already read you that bedtime story four months ago, instead.”

“That was the pretend deal for Mom. You still owe me real driving lessons. Plus, I can reach the pedals on my own now. I tested it!”

Lucifer rolled his eyes up to the parking garage ceiling, though he wasn’t sure which of his parents he wanted to curse. Since they invented the concept of offspring together, probably both.

“If you don’t get in the car right now, I’ll pick you up by the scruff of your neck and toss you into the school yard without even slowing down.”

Trixie huffed but settled into the passenger seat without another word. It was impossible for the girl to stay silent for too long, though. Before they’d even left the block, she twisted around to ask, “Why did Rory really start crying?”

“Because she’s three,” Lucifer dodged. He hoped the school drop off line moved quicker than the pick up line. He was already out of patience for the day and it wasn’t even seven-thirty in the morning yet. The crawling LA traffic did nothing to help his mood. He needed to get out of here. He needed the wind in his face, and a slice of open road where he could gun the engine.

“Does it have to do with the fights you keep having with my mom?”

“I told you last night we haven’t been fighting.”

“You just had another whisper-fight this morning!”

Lucifer shot her a glare. “You’re awfully nosy for such a little child.”

“Thanks for noticing!”

“… What?”

“That I have a big nose.”

Trixie innocently smiled when he glanced over at her which only deepened his confusion.

“What are you talking about? No one’s ever said you have a big nose.”

“I know. It’s a joke,” Trixie said. “So you can throw off the bullies when they try to call you names.”

“More like piss them off. Who taught you that?”

“My dad.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Figures. He may not be completely terrible at improv, but that doesn’t make his jokes good enough to repeat.”

Thankfully, the Urchin dropped her twisting word games. Unfortunately, she moved on to taking cheap shots at his possessions.

“At least without Rory, we get to drive the fancy car today.”

“Excuse me! Exactly which of my cars are you implying isn’t fancy?”

Trixie arched her eyebrow. “The boring one.”

“That is a 1962 Cadillac DeVille. It is anything but boring.”

“It has four doors, no sun roof, and no bluetooth,” Trixie argued. “It doesn’t even have a TV to watch DVDs on!”

“Because it was built before DVDs were invented!”

“This car’s old too, but it’s still a convertible. That’s why it’s fancy.”

Well, that was just absolutely, infuriatingly wrong on so many levels, Lucifer couldn’t decide where to start. The child was obviously ignorant of the world of classic cars and the people who collected them. And after seeing the cars her parents drove, it was obvious why. He could explain to her how convertible roofs were not the only desirable feature in a car, and how just as often the features tucked away inside the engine or the story behind a car’s design (or demise) is what truly made a car valuable — but it’d be a waste of energy. The child simply didn’t have the right genes to understand.

When they pulled up at the school, Trixie continued to be a thorn in his side by taking as long as she possibly could to leave the car. It required three simple steps: open the door, step out onto the sidewalk, retrieve backpack. Done. But no, that was apparently too complicated for the child. She continually paused between each step to wave at her gawking friends or to unzip and re-zip a pouch in her backpack without any purpose other than to stall. She moved so slowly, in fact, that the parent behind them honked their horn and cursed some rather colorful profanities, assuming Lucifer had lipread through the rearview mirror correctly.

“Stop showing off,” he finally snapped. “This isn’t the first time I’ve driven you to school.”

Trixie stared at him. “You drove me in third grade.”

“Yes, so?”

“Now, I’m in fourth grade,” she said, incredulously. As if he was the idiot for not understanding the intricate social hierarchies of ten year olds.

“I’m tossing you out on your ass in three… two….”

“Bye, Lucifer! Thanks for the ride!” The Urchin slammed the door shut and finally left him in peace.

He didn’t hop on the highway and drive until he hit the other end like he wanted to. No, he was a good, little Devil and returned straight home. He’d never actually walked the gallows (well… once, but he’d never walked them while anticipating death), but he imagined this nauseating stone of dread in the pit of his stomach was what the soon-to-be-executed felt as the rope slipped around their neck.

The floors tumbled away as the elevator ascended to the penthouse. What sort of scene would he find when the doors opened? Was Rory still sobbing and heartbroken, or had Chloe coaxed her back to smiles and laughter? Was either scenario better? They were both proof of his failure.

When the elevator doors did slide open, reality turned out to be something halfway in between. Rory no longer cried — but she didn’t laugh, either. She and Chloe sat on the couch, Rory curled up in the Detective’s lap. She clutched her teddy bear tightly to her chest and stared at a Paw Patrol episode playing on the television. The colorful, cartoon dogs pranced across the screen in that cloying way meant to entertain toddlers, but they didn’t even elicit a tiny smile from the girl.

Not sobbing, but still heartbroken, then.

“How badly did I screw up?” he risked asking.

Chloe shook her head. “It wasn’t anything you did. I think you’re right. She’s finally realizing she isn’t home.”

Home, as in the future. A different time where she lived with a different sister and a different mother. Lucifer remembered the Detective’s fears from the night before, about how that future version of herself must be missing Rory. How, regardless of whether Rory stayed in the present or returned to the future, some version of Chloe would still lose her daughter.

But that couldn’t be right. It didn’t feel right. The Chloe in the future shouldn’t be a different person from the Chloe who held their daughter now. After all, they weren’t talking about a different universe. This was their universe. Their timeline. And it was their daughter with the power to manipulate it, so why couldn’t they use that to fix things in Rory’s life? To make it better.

To let him stay in his daughter’s life.

Lucifer could think of a hundred reasons why he’d abandoned them in the future. Most were fueled by fear. The rest were rooted in Chloe rejecting him for being the Devil. But here in the present, they had already weathered that rejection. And yes, he was terrified of being a father, but he didn’t have a nine month pregnancy to let his fears spiral out of control. Rory had already been born. And seeing his daughter alive and existing as a physical reality… well, it was honestly more terrifying than the idea of her, but it also made it impossible for him to willingly walk out on her. So, surely he could figure out everything else that came with parenting, right? Amenadiel managed it in the future. Therefore, it couldn’t be that difficult. They just needed to keep Rory right here with them, and everything would be okay.

But with Rory’s sullen expression and vacant stare, it was hard to argue staying here in the present was the best thing for her. She missed her real home. Now that she realized this wasn’t the same place, her only desire would be to return back to her own time. And of all the favors and desires he’d fulfilled in the past, how could he possibly deny his daughter’s greatest desire?

“Rory.” Lucifer crouched beside the couch to meet Rory on her level. Her eyes flicked over to him, but she didn’t otherwise react. “I’m sorry for scaring you earlier.”

Tentatively, he reached his hand out and placed it over Rory’s. Her eyes followed the movement — and then, they widened.

“Your ring!”

She bolted upright and ditched the teddy bear to latch onto Lucifer’s hand.

“Yes… that’s my ring.” He glanced at Chloe. She seemed less puzzled than him, but before she could explain, Rory exclaimed:

“We found it, Mommy! Look, we found your ring!”

“What?”

Chloe shook her head. “No, that’s Daddy’s ring. See, it’s black?”

“No, we found it. It’s yours.” But then Rory took a closer look at the ring’s stone and frowned. She fixed Lucifer with an accusing glare. “You colored it!”

“I did not.” He looked at Chloe. “What is she talking about?”

“There’s a ring I have in the future that she likes to play with. I must have bought it after she was born,” Chloe explained. To Rory, she said, “But that ring is white like your wings, remember? That’s what you said. Daddy’s ring is black.”

“Because he colored it,” Rory claimed. “You broke it! Bad Daddy!”

She tried to smack him, but Lucifer yanked his arm out of the way. He didn’t disagree that he was a bad father, but at least blame him for something he actually did.

“This is not, nor has it ever been, your mother’s ring,” he said. But Rory lunged for him again. The only reason she didn’t succeed in hitting him this time was because Chloe held her back.

“You broke it! You broke it! You colored it all wrong.”

She gave up trying to reach him and fell back against Chloe in despair. The Detective did her best to soothe this fresh round of tears.

“My ring’s still at home, monkey. Daddy’s ring is different.”

“No, he stole it! He stole your ring.”

“I didn’t steal anything,” Lucifer argued. He hadn’t even stolen it from the original owner. The ring had been a gift.

— the ring had also been white originally. When Lilith owned it, before she’d given up her immortality and placed it inside the ring.

“She said your ring was white?”

Chloe nodded as she hugged a still-crying Rory. “White like her wings is how she put it.” To Rory, she asked, “Does it look like your wings, too? Did I buy it special for you?”

That was the more reasonable explanation: that Chloe’s ring in the future was an entirely different one from his. Rory must simply be confused. She missed home and was searching for signs of it in everything around her — but Rory had never been confused about anything else. Their daughter was clever and sharply observant. She might babble her words now and again, but she always knew exactly what she was talking about. She wouldn’t confuse his ring for Chloe’s unless they looked exactly the same. Unless they were the same.

“What’s wrong?” Chloe asked him.

But how could they be the same? Even if Chloe had his ring in the future, there was no way for Rory to know the stone had originally been white. The immortality inside the ring would have to be gone. But that was impossible. Lucifer had asked Lilith several times over the years if she wanted her immortality back. The last time he’d tried, she’d chewed him out and told him to never ask again.

The immortality didn’t belong to him, so he wouldn’t give it to anyone else. And if someone with the desire to live forever stole it, they would steal the entire ring. Both couldn’t be true: the immortality couldn’t be drained if Chloe had the ring.

Why did she have his ring with the immortality drained?

“Lucifer,” Chloe repeated. “What is it? Does your ring mean something?”

He finally answered, “I think you’re right, Detective. I didn’t choose to abandon you and Rory. Something worse has happened in the future.”

Chapter Text

Maze’s foot missed a step coming down the stairs — but she skipped it on purpose. She definitely did not stumble because her eyes were too heavy to open and register where her feet moved. And even if her eyes were closed, the wall still caught her and kept her upright. Just like she’d planned.

Man, last night had been wild. Nerds who sat behind their computers for twenty hours a day weren’t Maze’s first pick to party with, but she had to admit the local hackers weren’t that bad. Ruthless behind the keyboard and creative behind the bar — Maze could respect that. And the geeks sure respected her after she started (and won) an impromptu axe throwing competition that had gotten them kicked out of not one, but two joints. They’ll be at her beck and call now. Last month’s incident when she had a bounty swiped out from her nose because some fucker had been faster than her at combing social media would never happen again.

The dreams of shiny new checks and the smug satisfaction of catching her prey still weren’t enough to force her eyes open. She needed coffee. A vat of it. Now.

Maze navigated to the kitchen with only one additional stumble (also totally planned) and then fumbled in the cabinet for a mug. Here, her plans fell apart. She tried filling her cup, but the only thing the coffee pot poured out was air.

“The fuck?” She forced her eyes to wake up and focus. The pot was empty. Not even a drop of coffee remained in it, almost like it hadn’t been used today at all.

“Chloe!”

It was so fucking rude to not make coffee for your still sleeping roommate. Yeah, it was now hours after Chloe left for work, but Maze knew how to use a microwave. She just needed something to heat up.

Maze yanked the can of coffee grounds over to her, ranting under her breath. If Chloe was trying to teach her some goody two-shoes lesson about community or chores or whatever, then she should leave a damn note. Maze wasn’t a mind-reader!

— Why was the can empty?

She looked inside again, but no, the can stayed as empty as the coffee pot. Fucking great! She slammed the can back on the counter. So, they didn’t have any coffee in this house at all. What the fuck was she supposed to do now?

Bitch about it, obviously.

We’re out of coffee, Maze texted.

There was a disrespectfully long wait between the text being read and the dots flickering to indicate typing.

Then buy some? Chloe replied.

Maze scoffed.

It’s your turn for groceries this week!!!!!

Another long wait, but at least this time it ended with a longer reply.

I’m sorry, but you’re on your own for a while longer. I’m staying at Lucifer’s until Rory’s situation is sorted out.

At Lucifer’s? Still? No, that couldn’t be right. It had already been two weeks. How could Chloe still be over there?

Maze scanned the apartment for signs that Chloe was lying to her to get out of groceries. It had been so dark last night and she’d been so buzzed, that she’d gone straight up to her room. She’d assumed her roommate had been home because Chloe lived here with her. Not at the penthouse with Lucifer.

And yet, in the cold light of day, the apartment looked exactly the same as yesterday morning. Not a single thing had been moved. The dishes in the sink were all hers. The pillows rested on the couch in the same way Maze had left them when she watched a movie three nights ago. The food in the cabinets continued to dwindle and never restocked. No one else had been home.

Maze’s chest burned with anger. She hadn’t even seen Trixie these last couple of weeks. Like what, maybe once for just a quick minute when Dan had brought her by to pick up clean clothes? Other than that, crickets.

Chloe wasn’t supposed to be at Lucifer’s still. The arrangement was supposed to be temporary. Lucifer didn’t know shit about taking care of a toddler and needed help, Maze got that. But ‘temporary’ was supposed to mean ‘for a few days.’ How long did it take to learn baby care anyway? Feed it, clean it, make it sleep. Easy. There was no reason for Chloe to still be over there two weeks later.

Yet, she remained at Lucifer’s. And she’d taken Trixie, her belongings, and her damn share of the chores with her. Why? Chloe had promised everything would stay exactly the same as it’d been before Lucifer’s kid showed up. What the hell happened to that?

Maze wanted to throw something or break something as her rage grew — but every hole she left in the wall stayed there without comment because no one was around to notice. No one was around to care.

This was stupid. It was so… stupid! Maze didn’t have to sit here and take this. She was a God-damned demon from Hell! If people wanted to leave her, then fine! She didn’t need anyone or anything.

Except coffee that she would apparently have to buy herself today. Fucking Chloe.

Whatever, it didn’t matter. Maze still had other friends that cared about her. She would just pick up an extra latte for Linda and go hang out with her today. They could sit and trash talk in Linda’s office, and if any patients interrupted them, Maze would step outside and eavesdrop. Some of those people had hilarious sob stories. She’d be cheered up instantly.

Yeah… yeah, that was the plan. She would be just fine.

“What did you mean earlier when you said something worse happened in the future?” Chloe asked.

No longer crying, Rory had retreated to play in her corner of the room. Lucifer had laid out tumbling mats over there to protect her when she inevitably fell again, but right now they only served as a cushion to sit on. Instead of sprinting around the penthouse in a game of make-believe or throwing her entire weight at a toy that didn’t need to be tackled, Rory quietly pushed a car around its track. Her mood was still low.

“Well, for starters, I must be dead,” Lucifer replied. He scanned the bookshelves for… something. He hadn’t bothered to share that information, yet. This main room held all of his rare, collectible books: first-editions, antiques. Books Chloe had always believed he’d bought or swapped favors for as a status symbol until she’d learned he was literally the Devil and had likely picked up these first editions when they were brand new.

Her stomach twisted at how casually Lucifer said he was dead in the future. She’d worried that would be his conclusion. There were lots of explanations for why she might have a ring like Lucifer’s in the future, but of course, he would imagine the worst one.

Except his imagination was even worse than that.

“But I’m not only dead. There’s something else going on here.” He muttered curses when another shelf didn’t hold what he wanted. “Come on, where did we put that?”

Chloe didn’t ask what he was looking for. Her mind was stuck on his phrasing. ‘Only dead’ as if there was another stage past death. Something deeper where you weren’t just dead, you were dead dead.

She couldn’t dismiss the idea like she could’ve a few weeks ago. With what she knew now, maybe there was a second, more permanent kind of death that even immortal angels feared.

But when she voiced this question, Lucifer merely hummed in response and then disappeared into his bedroom to continue his search. Chloe grit her teeth to stop herself from shouting after him. It was the same old problem with him, again and again. Lucifer told the truth, but only when he wanted to. Otherwise, he’d dodge the question with whatever means he had. Just once, Chloe would like to get a normal, straightforward, and complete answer from him. It shouldn’t be this difficult to manage! But no, even after she’d learned angels exist and that they had a young daughter together who could time travel, Lucifer still refused to tell her everything.

As swiftly as it had flared, her frustration now faded. Sadness swept over her instead, and her gaze shifted back to Rory.

Things shouldn’t be this difficult for Rory, either. Her sweet baby daughter was lost and confused and hurting, and she didn’t even have her father around to help. Not in her own time.

Ten years ago, when Trixie had been born, Chloe had taken her new daughter into her arms and whispered one promise and one wish over her. The promise: to not make her mother’s mistakes. The wish: that Trixie would never know the pain of losing a parent. Each and every day since then, Chloe had fought to uphold her end of the bargain. She knew it wasn’t a guarantee. She knew that even if she and Dan worked different jobs that didn’t involve guns and violent confrontations, her wish could never become a promise. Accidents happened every day, at any time, without warning. But Chloe could damn well try. Her primary goal was to always come home to Trixie at the end of the day, to keep herself safe without sacrificing the safety of others. There had been times, she didn’t think she would make it, and it broke her heart to imagine leaving Trixie with all of that pain. Chloe knew all too well how much it hurt to lose a parent. She still grieved her father even all these years later. It was a pain that never went away.

So to hear, now, that it wasn’t Trixie she should’ve been scared for, that it might be Rory, her miraculous, surprise child, to experience that grief in the future — that wasn’t fair. Chloe hadn’t had the chance to wish over Rory or to fight for her, and she deserved that chance to do so. And Lucifer deserved the chance to be there for them, too. So if he wanted to stay but couldn’t — if something robbed him of that chance in the future — then that wasn’t fair.

Lucifer reemerged from his bedroom empty-handed and immediately strode off deeper into the penthouse. Chloe let him go without comment.

She still had one place to go for answers. Chloe slipped over to Rory and sat down on the mat beside her, being careful to not jostle the Hot Wheels tower Rory currently played with.

“Hi, monkey,” she said, softly. “Are you feeling any better?”

Rory shrugged. She always had a smile ready, just like Trixie, but right now, she didn’t even glance up.

Chloe pushed on. “Hey monkey, I’m really sorry to ask you this. But when Daddy was gone, before you got to meet him, did I ever tell you where he was? Did I ever say he was in a different city… or maybe that he was in Hell?”

But Rory shook her head. “Daddy’s not in Hell or Heaven. He’s just gone.”

She recited this like it was something she’d memorized after hearing it repeated dozens of times. Like she knew the words but not their meaning. Chloe wondered if she’d been the one to repeat this for her daughter, and, if so, how much of it was a lie meant to protect her?

“Is Daddy fixing your ring?” Rory asked, finally looking up.

Chloe hesitated. How much should she lie now to protect her daughter?

As much as necessary.

“Yeah.” Chloe nodded. “We’re going to fix my ring… but it might take us some time. Is that okay?”

Rory heaved a dramatic sigh that would make her grandmother proud and said, “Okay.”

And then, abruptly, she ran off.

Like father, like daughter, Chloe thought with a sigh of her own. And like with Lucifer, she gave Rory space to be by herself.

Chloe pulled out her phone. No new texts from Maze, and she didn’t have any from work either. She should be relieved. Pierce had given her the day off easily — but he’d also been curt, barely saying ‘fine’ before hanging up on her. Maybe it was his tone that had her paranoid. Today of all days, she needed the time off to wrap her head around a time-travelling daughter from the future, and yet, a little part of her couldn’t help but worry Pierce was already assigning new cases to the other detectives and cutting her out once again.

So, she texted Dan. Just a short message, checking in and asking how things were going at the precinct this morning.

All quiet. Nothing new has come in yet, Dan replied. A few seconds later, he added, Is Trix sick? I won’t tell Pierce if she’s not ;)

No she’s fine. It was Rory who had a bad morning.

Caught a cold bad or you’re not my real mom bad?

Chloe’s heart stopped. Even in text, the words screamed at her. She knew what Dan meant by the text, knew he was referring to the mother they’d all believed existed in the present — but Chloe knew the truth now. While she might still be struggling to understand, in some ways, her mind had already adjusted. Any reference to Rory’s mother automatically meant her now.

No, the bad morning wasn’t her fault. No, Rory hadn’t rejected her. Whether the Chloe in the future was a different person from her now or if they were the same person in different times, Rory had never wavered in her belief that Chloe was her mother.

Yet, it still felt like it was her fault. Chloe knew it was irrational and — especially in this case — entirely unrealistic to have different expectations for herself. But guilt didn’t like rational arguments. As Rory’s mother, she was supposed to have the answers. She was supposed to know what to do. But how could Chloe have the answers to time travel? How was she meant to help her daughter when they had lived different lives and held different memories? They weren’t from the same year. Rory hadn’t even been born yet, and Chloe….

She was just an ordinary human being, not an angel. She didn’t even understand what the celestial world was yet, let alone how it worked, and it was unreasonable to expect herself to learn in two weeks. But still… still…. She hated feeling like she was failing her daughter.

Unaware of her conflicted thoughts behind the silence, Dan sent a second text.

Too harsh?

Chloe forced herself to respond. No you’re right. She knows she’s not home and doesn’t understand why. Not technically a lie, but certainly not the full truth. Lucifer would be impressed.

The sound of paper ripping yanked her attention back to the living room. Frowning, Chloe searched for the source but came up empty. “Rory, what are you up to?”

Little footsteps pattered and then Rory emerged from the hallway. She held up an unevenly torn strip of paper. “It won’t stay.”

“What paper is that?”

“White.”

White, like that was an explanation. Chloe could see on her own that the paper was white. However, she couldn’t tell if the paper was important, which was her biggest concern right now. When she walked over, though, she saw it was just a blank sheet of printer paper. Rory must have scavenged it off the fax machine Lucifer still had for whatever reason.

“It won’t stay,” Rory repeated with a whine. She mashed two ends of the paper together and pouted when it unrolled.

“What are you trying to make?”

“It’s a ring until Daddy fixes yours.”

Oh. The answer landed like a sucker punch, and a powerful urge to cry swelled up in Chloe. It was a reaction she frequently experienced with Trixie, whenever her daughter did something sweet or thoughtful or brilliant — anything that made Chloe remember that this was her daughter and that she got to be the one lucky enough to raise her and witness every step of her journey.

Rory was hers, too. And she was perfect.

But she was also three years old and only identified tears as a sign of sadness or pain. So, Chloe bit down on her lip until the tears receded. “Thank you so much, monkey. I love that idea!” Smiling like her throat didn’t ache with adoration, Chloe held out her hand. “Come on. Let’s go find some tape so we can make it stay together, yeah?”

Rory brightened into a toothy grin. “Yeah!”

Downstairs in the library, Chloe found a roll of Scotch tape in a drawer. She directed Rory over to a pair of armchairs and laid their crafting supplies on the side table between them. Rory had torn down the length of the page, so they had plenty of paper to work with. Enough that after they’d taped together the replacement ring for her, she suggested making a second one for Rory.

“Yeah!”

So, Chloe trimmed the paper to fit Rory’s tiny finger and then held the ends together for Rory to tape. The result was more tape than paper, but Rory still clapped when Chloe presented it to her.

“Ta da!” she said with a flourish.

Giddily, Rory slid the paper ring on. “We have to wear it on the right finger.” She tapped her right hand. “The right finger, Mommy.”

Chloe nodded. “Yep, I remember.” She held out her own paper ring to compare. It was wrapped around the middle finger of her right hand, exactly where Rory said she wore her ring in the future. Rory proudly held her hand up higher to prove she’d used the correct finger, too.

“We match now!”

“We do match.” Chloe grinned. “Is it our superpower rings?”

“Our superpower rings!” Rory giggled. “Yeah!”

She leaned over the side table and fist bumped Chloe just as Lucifer entered the room. He mumbled something to himself that was too low to make out and walked over to a set of bookshelves. The mysterious search was still on, then.

Chloe considered calling him over, but it wasn’t clear if Lucifer would even hear her. He got this way on cases sometimes: blinders up and laser focused on a personal issue rather than the matter at hand. But while it drove her crazy during a homicide investigation, this time, the personal issue was Rory’s future and time travel. Maybe it was better to let him focus.

And then, her eyes fell on his ring.

When Lucifer reached up to retrieve a book, the library lights reflected off the silver band and drew her eye. Chloe realized the ring was on the middle finger of his right hand. Exactly where Rory expected it to be, just worn by the wrong parent.

But how could that be? Why would she wear the ring on the same finger that Lucifer did? It didn’t have anything to do with the realization Lucifer had made. He hadn’t been home when Rory said which finger she wore the ring on.

It was the same. The ring she wore in the future didn’t just look like Lucifer’s. It must be the exact same ring, and Lucifer had realized that. He’d realized it as soon as Rory accused him of coloring the stone black.

The stone was white in the future. When Chloe owned the ring, the stone was white. Was that why Lucifer assumed he’d died? Would the stone change if he was dead? But what did the ring mean and how did she end up with it if Lucifer was gone?

Chloe had wanted to show Lucifer the paper rings Rory had made because it was a cute and thoughtful moment with their daughter that might ground him back to the present. But now, she found herself curling her hand to hide it in case he turned around and spotted them. Rings were a loaded topic even in stable, established relationships, and Chloe wouldn’t exactly call her relationship with Lucifer stable. Established, maybe. Though, established ‘what’ had always been unclear.

They were professional partners — though, there was nothing professional about Lucifer. They were friends, but he’d always kept secrets from her. Some, like being the Devil, he’d admittedly shared and it was on Chloe for not believing him. But others…. He had never told everything.

And now, they were co-parents to a magnificent little girl. They’d adjusted to the new role more easily than Chloe had adjusted to angels being real. But co-parenting only required a mutual agreement that the child came first, no matter what. It didn’t require anything from the relationship they had with each other.

Rings did. Engagement rings, wedding rings — Lucifer’s ring was clearly not those. But it was also clearly important to him. Accessories and suits were traded in and out, but Chloe had never seen him without that ring on. She had no idea if he wore it for angel reasons or Lucifer reasons, but… she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Not yet. That conversation still felt too loaded. Rings symbolized connections and claims and promises, but Lucifer had broken too many promises. Or maybe, more accurately, there were too many promises he’d never made.

He’d never promised to stay. And he had left once. Right when their relationship looked like it would become romantic — and immediately after Chloe had endured the most terrifying ordeal of her life — Lucifer had balked and fled in the opposite direction. He didn’t return until weeks later when he was married to an exotic dancer from Vegas., something he had definitely never explained.

Yet, in the future, Chloe wore his ring. Despite Lucifer’s absence, a connection between them still remained. But did she wear the ring for a promise he had broken or a promise he hadn’t had the chance to fulfill?

She couldn’t know which it was without travelling to the future herself. It was impossible for either of them have the answer here and now, no matter how many books Lucifer consulted. So when Rory held up her crafted ring and called out, “Daddy!” Chloe hushed her.

“Daddy’s working,” she lied, and Rory fell silent. Just like her older sister, Rory had been taught that sometimes, through no fault of hers, Mommy and Daddy’s work had to take priority.

Lucifer found his book and left without ever realizing they were in the room.

Maze stepped off the elevator to find Linda’s waiting room empty but her office door closed. Well, that was interesting. There shouldn’t be a patient right now. Maze had memorized the schedule for Linda’s regulars ages ago, but maybe she had a newbie in today. That could be juicy. Newbies were often so much more defensive than the regulars.

Silently, she crept over and pressed her ear to the door. She didn’t immediately hear any raised voices or furious accusations, but she continued listening for them. To be honest, Maze still didn’t understand why Linda let patients yell at her. If they really wanted therapy, a good beating would do it. But Linda continually insisted it was better to allow patients to work through their tumultuous emotions at their own pace, even if that involved some yelling. Her job was just to provide a safe space and some guidance to navigate those emotions. Maze didn’t buy it. Torture was definitely a better fix. Just look at Charlotte! She spent a few millenia in Hell, and now she was doing great.

The office remained quiet. The door wasn’t closed for a new patient, then. Maybe Linda just wanted some privacy.

“Hey, Linda!” Maze went out of her way to knock like Linda preferred and then marched inside. “I got us some coffee. Thought we could—“

Linda wasn’t alone. The second Maze opened the door, two people sprang apart. Though, by the time she realized that, Linda was already standing and straightening out her shirt. Amenadiel still sat on the couch and looked tensed to run.

“What the fuck is this?”

“Oh good, it’s just you.” Linda sighed in relief, and Amenadiel relaxed.

(Relaxed. On Linda’s couch, the one they had just been making out on.)

(If Maze wasn’t clutching a coffee in each hand, Amenadiel wouldn’t feel so relaxed right now. She could guarantee that.)

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she snapped.

“There was a lull,” Amenadiel awkwardly explained as if Linda’s schedule was to blame for this betrayal. (This second betrayal.) At the same time, Linda answered, “Amenadiel came over during my break just to chat,” as if she didn’t still have buttons undone on her blouse.

Maze wanted to bite their eyes out.

“You two remember that’s how you get angel babies, right? Or did you forget sex can get you pregnant?”

They both laughed —laughed! — before Amenadiel caught the murder in her eyes and stopped.

“Oh. You don’t know yet.”

“That you two are screwing around again? Yeah, I figured that out.” And she was going to gut them both for it just as soon as she could drop these fucking coffees to grab her knives.

Amenadiel stood up from the couch. He should thank his Daddy that he didn’t take a step towards her, because if he had moved even an inch closer, Maze would’ve thrown the scalding hot coffee in his stupid, mortal face.

“No, about Rory,” Amenadiel said, his voice far too chipper for the maiming Maze was plotting. “It turns out angels still can’t have children. Nothing’s changed after all.”

“The kid has Lucifer’s wings. That makes her an angel, dumbass.”

“No, she is! She’s definitely an angel.”

Linda cut in, “What Amenadiel is trying to explain is that Chloe is Rory’s mother. As in her real, biological mother.”

“Okay and?” Maze said, still not comprehending anything beyond murder, stab, slice.

“And she time travelled,” Amenadiel said. “Rory, not Chloe. She’s Lucifer and Chloe’s daughter from the future.”

“Right, that part still messes with my head a bit,” Linda said. “But it explains how Rory exists! It’s part of Chloe being a gift from God.”

That made sense. Even through her fury, Maze could tell the explanation fit. Rory was way too comfortable with Chloe to not be her actual daughter, and there was no other reasonable explanation for Lucifer to have a kid.

… And apparently everyone else had realized this ages ago. So, not only was Chloe dumping her in favor of Lucifer and a baby angel, but the two of them also didn’t think it was necessary to fill Maze in on said baby angel being able to fucking time travel. No seriously, why would they need to tell her themselves when she can just hear it secondhand from Linda and Amenadiel who were fucking each other again!

“And that gives you a free pass?” Maze gestured at Amenadiel with so much force, some coffee splashed past the lid. “You can’t get anyone pregnant, so you think you get to sleep with whoever you want?”

“Uh….” Amenadiel frowned in confusion. “If they also want to sleep with me?”

“That’s bullshit!”

“Maze,” Linda said — but she wasn’t yelling at her for being a bitch. Linda had used her therapist tone which Maze found vindicating because it meant her friend had finally noticed she was pissed. But it also infuriated her more. Maze had no desire to listen to therapy garbage or to open up about her feelings. There weren’t any feelings to open! Just an unbearable itch to beat the crap out of something or someone or everyone.

“Is there something wrong?” Linda asked, exactly as Maze predicted. It took all of her learned self-control not to crush the cups of coffee in her hands.

Instead, she pulled her rage back down to a dangerous simmer and plastered a cold, empty smile on her face.

“Nope.” She took a slow sip from her coffee, staring at Linda the entire time. When she finished, she added, “I just hope you’re right about angels having kids. After all, squeezing those wings out of your vagina would be a bitch.”

She relished the fear that flickered across Linda’s face and took a sip from the second coffee she had bought for a friend except she didn’t have those anymore. Then, with the immediate torture complete, she marched back out of the office. Maze had plans to make for the next round of torment. Because there would be a next round. Fucking each other once was annoying and stupid. But twice?

That was personal. And personal demanded blood.

Chloe tapped on Rory’s hand to interrupt her coloring. “Hey, are you hungry for lunch, baby girl?”

“No,” Rory said, continuing to scribble away.

Chloe narrowed her eyes. Given how little Rory ate for breakfast each day, she was certain the girl was getting hungry. Rory was just too engrossed in her coloring at the moment to notice.

She was about to push for a lunch break again when her phone rang. The caller ID showed it was Pierce.

“Crap.”

She muttered the curse under her breath, but it was still loud enough for the toddler with selectively sensitive hearing to catch. Instantly, Rory fixed her with an accusing stare.

“Uh oh!” she said.

“Don’t repeat that,” Chloe warned. She left Rory giggling at the coffee table and rose up to answer the call.

“You have a case,” Pierce said without a greeting. “Double murder at a lookout off Griffith Park. I need you and Lucifer to get over there now.”

Chloe quickly weighed her options. She’d explicitly told Pierce she had a family issue to take care of today, and he’d approved the time off. Yes, murders didn’t care about vacation time, but it was still a dick move for him to choose today of all days to finally assign her a new case. But on the other hand, she didn’t want to be blacklisted again. She wasn’t so far removed from the Malcolm Graham business to forget what it was like to be ostracized by everyone in the department. Rory had calmed and was even starting to cheer up. It should be safe to leave her and Lucifer alone.

“Okay, I can be there in thirty.”

“I said you and Lucifer,” Pierce repeated.

Chloe shut her eyes in annoyance but kept her voice calm. “Yes, I heard you, Lieutenant, but I can work the case alone.”

“Not this one. It’s too important to not have both of my best detectives on it.”

She didn’t even pretend to be flattered. “Lucifer can’t leave his daughter on her own. She’s three.”

“Then, get a babysitter. I want both of you working this case, no excuses.” And then, Pierce hung up, leaving no more room for arguing.

Reluctantly, Chloe slipped her phone back in her pocket. Rory watched her with the same knowing expression she’d seen Trixie wear dozens of times.

“You have to catch bad guys now?” her daughter asked.

“Yeah monkey, I do.” She leaned down and kissed the top of Rory’s head. “And I have to take Daddy with me, too. Is it okay if Amenadiel comes over to play with you again?”

“And Charlie!”

“No, I’m sorry. It’s just Uncle Amenadiel.” Chloe playfully narrowed her eyes. “And no knives, right?” Rory giggled and squirmed as she tickled her. “Right? No more knives with Uncle Meni.”

Through giggles, Rory agreed. Now all Chloe had to do was convince Lucifer.

Lucifer deeply regretted agreeing to this case. Unfortunately, the regret didn’t full set in until they’d already arrived at the crime scene when it was too late for the Detective to turn around. Why hadn’t he driven his own car? Then, he could’ve turned back for home immediately.

“I can’t believe you waited until now to tell me this.”

“I definitely told you already,” Chloe argued as she parked the car.

“That my brother has lost his bloody mind?” Lucifer said. “No, you left that part out.” He pulled out his phone and repeated the accusation in a capslocked text to Amenadiel.

Chloe replied, “Yesterday, you were shot in the chest and walked away. Amenadiel breaking a kitchen knife against his hand seems pretty tame by comparison.”

“Except he’s mortal! That knife should’ve gone right through him.”

Amenadiel was also unconcerned by his flaky powers. He replied to Lucifer’s text with a confused, Yes I did…. And?

“How am I supposed to know that?” Chloe said. “There’s no consistency to all these angel rules. They don’t make any sense!”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “It’s very straightforward, actually. I have my powers, but I’m mortal whenever I’m close to you. Amenadiel doesn’t have his powers, so he’s mortal all the time — which means he shouldn’t be stabbing himself with knives!”

He pointed that out to his brother as well, along with more accusations of lying and not being able to trust him as a babysitter when he can’t even remember he’s mortal.

Or maybe my powers are coming back!

The Detective continued to be just as obtuse.

“I was in the restaurant when you were shot,” she said.

“Since I’m still alive,” Lucifer countered, “that’s impossible. You must have arrived after.”

Amenadiel sent another text with a photo of his bleeding finger attached. I guess not.

“Idiot.”

Chloe batted his arm. “Pierce is staring at us. Let’s go.”

“Not me. I’m going back home.”

“Lucifer!”

“You can keep your car, Detective. I’ll fly back.” He paused as a new horror sunk in. “Hold on, when he asked to take Rory flying, did he mean to take her himself?”

Chloe frowned. “I told him no flying. Did you tell him yes?”

“Of course, not. He doesn’t have wings!”

The Detective did not look sufficiently alarmed by this news. In fact, her frown relaxed. “Well then, they should be fine until we get back.”

“Does this look fine to you?” He held out the image of Amenadiel’s bleeding hand, but Chloe pushed it out of her face. “This could be Rory next! I have to take care of this.” He gestured at the flocking cops scouring the crime scene. “Go distract everyone so I can fly out of here.”

“You’re not flying anywhere.”

“Like Hell I’m not!”

Lucifer twisted around to argue more about how Amenadiel was obviously an unsuitable babysitter, but Chloe thwarted him.

“Lucifer, is Rory actually in danger or are you just scared to leave her?”

He hesitated. “What’s the difference?”

“One is real and one is just being a parent.”

“Human parents, maybe,” Lucifer muttered. He was certain his own parents had never feared for his safety. God, in particular, didn’t even seem capable of the emotion. However, the tight, suffocating coil in his chest proved Lucifer was completely vulnerable to fear.

Chloe said, “You have a three year old. That’s one of the most nerve-wracking years with kids because they can get into everything but don’t fully understand consequences yet.”

Well, that certainly described Rory and her penchant for mischief. However, something in the Detective’s wording sparked suspicion. “What’s the least nerve-wracking age?”

Chloe smiled. “Haven’t found it yet.” When Lucifer rolled his eyes, she chuckled. “Come on. Five minutes, and if we don’t need you, you can go back home to Rory.”

Pierce’s stare had devolved into a full glare by the time they got out of the car. “You’re late.”

“I don’t know why I’m here at all. You’re usually chasing me away from cases, not dragging me in.”

Chloe cut him off. “He means we’re sorry, Lieutenant.”

“I certainly do not.”

“What’s the case?” Chloe asked, a warning edge creeping into her tone. “A double murder, but when you called, it sounded like there was something more concerning about it.”

Lucifer was more concerned about the double accidental deaths possibly waiting for him back in the penthouse. He checked the time. Five minutes from now, he was gone.

“You should prepare yourselves,” Pierce said as he lifted the crime scene tape. “This is a different kind of case.”

“You could just answer the question instead of playing Show-and-Tell.” But Lucifer fell in line behind the Detective all the same. Pierce led them over to the black convertible parked by the cliff’s edge. Maybe that was why Lucifer had been dragged into this. The Lieutenant wanted his car expertise because the LAPD were pathetically lacking in that department. Well, here was his expert opinion: the victims’ car was middling and pedestrian. It was clearly purchased by someone whose need to show off ran deeper than their pocket book and only reinforced his point to the Urchin earlier this morning that a convertible roof did not inherently make a car ‘fancy.’

As they came around the hood they got their first glimpse of the bodies. The victims, presumably one male and one female, though they were too dead to ask for pronouns, looked like they had simply fallen asleep in their seats. Indeed, if you didn’t look too closely at the bloody trail running out of their chests, you would believe that was exactly what had happened.

“Pretty gnarly, right?” Ella said, coming to stand beside him.

“Not unusually so, no. This looks exactly like every other murder scene we’ve been to.” Then, Lucifer cocked his head and conceded, “Although, I did recently meet my daughter before she’s even been born, so my threshold for unusual might be skewed.”

“You mean after she was born,” Ella said.

“No, she says I wasn’t around for that.”

“Yeah, I know, but….” Ella trailed off, confused, and turned to Chloe. “Is he not getting enough sleep? I thought it was newborns that kept you up all night.”

“The victims,” Chloe redirected (with another warning glare towards Lucifer), “were they shot?”

Ella jumped back into case mode. “Only if they were shot with a bullet the size of Harley Quinn’s mallet. Their chests are totally caved in. My guess is they were bludgeoned with a blunt object, and not just once, either. This looks like repeated attacks. Like the perp just went — wham! wham! — over and over again until they finally broke through the ribs to crush the vics’ hearts.”

Lucifer wasn’t impressed. “Brutal, but still not unusual.”

“Without anyone fighting back?” Ella countered.

Pierce paced the length of the car like he had ants in his pants. Lucifer was tempted to toss him over the cliff just to make him stop. The restlessness was keeping his own anxieties high. He should’ve just stayed home, case be damned. If he returned to find Rory with even a drop of blood on her, Amenadiel would be dead and back in the Silver City faster than he could blink.

Chloe examined the victims more closely. “Even if they were surprised, at least one of them should’ve had time to fight.”

“Not if they were already dead.” Lucifer pointed at the bodies. “Look at the way they’re sitting. They’re practically holding hands.”

“More like incapacitated somehow,” Ella said. “This much blood in the car, the vics were definitely still alive when they were attacked. The posing could’ve been done after the fact, though.”

“Which one of them was married?” Pierce asked.

Lucifer perked up. “Oh, is that why you called us out on a case for the first time in weeks, you remembered what a shoddy detective you are? Neither of the victims are married, genius. There’s no wedding ring.”

But Pierce remained frustratingly certain. “One of them was married, and whoever it was swallowed their wedding ring. You’ll find it in their esophagus when you do the autopsy.

“Wrong again,” Lucifer said. “Human anatomy would put the ring in their stomach if it was swallowed.”

“It never makes it that far.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. And people called him stubborn.

Chloe frowned. “Wait….” She turned to Pierce. “Do you think one of them was cheating on their spouse?”

“That’s the M.O.”

“What M.O?” Ella asked. “Have we seen this before?”

Chloe answered, “It was an old, old string of murders here. Cheating couples were always the target.” She addressed Pierce again. “Wasn’t he called the Heartbreak Killer?”

“It was the fifties,” Pierce said, and Lucifer couldn’t tell if he was providing more background on the case or trying to justify the embarrassing moniker.

“But they caught the guy. He should still be in jail, if he’s even alive,” Chloe said.

“He’s not. Clarke Hoffman died just a few days ago.”

Vindicated and feeling smug once more, Lucifer said, “Ah ha, so then this couldn’t be the same killer. Three strikes means you’re out, Pierce.”

“Unless it’s a copycat,” Ella said. Lucifer narrowed his eyes at her. Traitor.

“Or someone saw the news and is using the same M.O. to cover their tracks,” Chloe added.

Pierce pointed at the victims. “If it is a copycat, then there’s going to be a second set of murders just like this one. We need to catch this guy before that happens.”

“Right, and how long did the original killer wait between murders: months, years maybe?” Chloe locked eyes with him, and Lucifer released a sigh. Yes, that was what he was afraid of. So much for getting out of here in five minutes. Amenadiel better fucking behave himself.

Chapter Text

Maze wove her way down the street the way only a demon who lived and breathed shadows could manage. She slipped between passers-by without raising a glare and ducked through doorways or alleyways as needed to avoid being seen. Always she kept within a thirty second sprint away from her motorcycle. She needed to be ready to follow if her prey hopped back in a car.

Linda veered into a dry cleaning shop. Maze pulled close to the wall and waited. Five minutes later, Linda walked out, one arm now laden with clothing while the other fought to straighten the straps of her purse. It left her jeans pocked wide open. Maze didn’t hesitate. While Linda was distracted, she swiftly marched past and swiped Linda’s phone. Then, she rounded the next corner and didn’t stop walking until she found a quiet spot to snoop.

The first thing the phone greeted her with was a notification for a new text from Amenadiel. That bitch! Although, whether she meant Linda or Amenadiel was a flip of the coin.

The notification cut off the full message, so Maze swiped the screenlock to read it. But when she typed in Linda’s code, the phone denied her access.

Wrong PIN, the screen flashed.

“Did you change your password?” Maze hissed. “That fucking bitch!” And this time, she definitely meant Linda.

Two attempts later and she was officially locked out. Well, fuck! At least Linda would be locked out, too. Maze might not know what the text said, but Amenadiel wouldn’t be getting a reply anytime soon. Maybe he’d take the hint and break things off with Linda like he should have done ages ago. No actually, they never should’ve started dating in the first place. Did she mean nothing to them?

“Maze?”

Linda stood in front of her. She must have noticed her phone was missing sooner than Maze had predicted, because she wouldn’t have turned down this street if she was running her usual errands.

Linda’s eyes flicked down to her hands. “Is that my phone?”

Maze plastered on a smile. “Oh, so you’re the one who dropped it! I haven’t been able to find a name.” She handed the phone over to Linda and faked a grimace. “You might be locked out, now. Oops.”

Linda arched her eyebrow as she verified that for herself. “I see…. Well, thank you for finding it.”

Her gratitude was as forced as Maze’s smile, and it made Maze want to scream. I could snap your neck and you wouldn’t even realize until you saw that creep Azrael at the gates. Just break up already!

But she kept up the innocent smile. “Of course. Just being a good Samaritan.” She pushed past Linda to leave, but Linda called her back.

“Hey, can we talk about the other day?”

Slowly, Maze turned around and crossed her arms over her chest. “What other day?”

Linda replied, “When you walked in on Amenadiel and me….”

“Boning?”

“I believe our clothes were still on.”

Such a weak excuse. Maze imagined running her blade down Linda’s arm and stripping the skin back. What did it matter if they had their clothes on? The intention had been obvious.

“It’s fine,” she said.

Linda frowned. “Are you sure? You just seemed… maybe a little upset at the time.”

Maze shrugged. “I’m fine.”

Her potentially ex-friend stared for a long moment like she was trying to use the powers of psychology to read her mind.

“Okay,” Linda said, finally. “Okay, I believe you’re fine because I know if you weren’t, you would tell me.”

“Of course, because friends are always honest with each other.”

“Right.”

The glare broke free. “Unless that friend is fucking Amenadiel behind her back!”

“Okay, so you are still angry about that,” Linda said, practically cheerful like she was glad Maze was imagining killing her.

“Like you even care!” she snapped.

“I do! That’s why I’m asking.”

“No, you don’t because if you did, you wouldn’t have gone running back to him the second you didn’t think you can get pregnant anymore.” Maze paused as a new realization sunk in. “Is that the only reason you stopped? It had nothing to do with me. You were just freaked out over the idea of a baby with wings?”

“Well yes, the idea of being pregnant with an angel is kind of terrifying,” Linda replied.

An unfamiliar wave of emotion swelled in Maze. It wasn’t anger or rage. Not an itch for violence. It felt nauseating like a hangover but her head was clear. Her throat, on the other hand, felt clogged and tight. She forced herself to shout through the pain.

“I told you you shouldn’t be seeing each other! I told you it was a shit idea!”

Linda wouldn’t take her damn therapist hat off long enough to fight her. “You didn’t say any of that, actually. You made some thinly veiled insinuations, but never spoke to me directly about any problems you might—“

“My problem,” Maze interrupted, “is everybody keeps ignoring me! Nobody cares enough to listen!”

“I’m listening, Maze.”

“Oh, really? Then, did you know Chloe hasn’t been home for weeks? No, of course not because when I went to tell you, you were wrapped all over Amenadiel on your couch!”

Linda tried to speak, but Maze cut her off again.

“The joke’s on you anyway! Angel babies are still a risk, you know.”

Instantly, Linda switched to shaking her head. “No, no. Angels can’t get humans pregnant. That’s just a Lucifer and Chloe thing.”

“Because she’s a gift from God.”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, well Amenadiel is mortal now, genius!”

Linda hesitated. “But… he’s still an angel. That wouldn’t change anything, would it?”

“He doesn’t have wings or powers and can die,” Maze said. “He might as well be human.”

Impossibly, this news didn’t ignite fear in Linda’s eyes. Instead, a calculating expression took over and she slowly replied, “So, if that’s true, then if there was an accidental pregnancy… the child would be fully human, right? No angel wings to worry about.”

Her smile at the end, a display of relief and happiness, invoked the same nauseating emotion in Maze. She wasn’t breaking Linda and Amenadiel up. She was pushing them together. How the fuck did she manage that? She was a God-damned demon from Hell! An expert at torture! She couldn’t fail like this.

“Fuck you!” she spat. “And fuck Amenadiel, too — oh wait, you’re already doing that!”

“Maze—“

“You know, whatever!” Maze stepped back. “You want to replace me with a baby of your own, then go right ahead and do it. Chloe and Lucifer already did! I guess everybody just gets to run off and play happy family. Hurray for you guys!”

Linda shook her head. “That’s not what happening. I just got distracted by details. I wasn’t talking about a baby for myself.”

“No, it’s fine,” Maze insisted, ignoring yet another wave of nausea. “I mean, what does a demon know about family, anyway?”

She spun around and marched away. Linda tried calling after her, but Maze just quickened her pace. The second she could do so without losing more of her dignity, she broke into a sprint. Only thirty seconds to reach her motorcycle, and then she was out of here.

Lucifer stepped outside the precinct’s conference room and growled into his phone. “Honestly brother, do I have to hold your hand through everything? Taking care of an infant isn’t that difficult.”

“But she won’t stop crying,” Amenadiel complained.

“Yes, because you’re doing it wrong!”

“No, it’s because she wants me to stab myself again which I can’t do this time—“

“Which you shouldn’t have done in the first place!”

“— and she’s angry she can’t play with her friend Charlie,” Amenadiel continued, “who I assume hasn’t been born yet either if Rory’s from the future.”

“He hasn’t,” Lucifer snapped. “Look, just put on an episode of Fringe. It’ll calm her right down.”

“You said not to watch Fringe.”

The Detective chose that moment to poke her head through the conference room door. “Lucifer!”

He pivoted back to her. “I told you, I’m dead in the future. I didn’t cheat on you, and I won’t pretend I did.”

Chloe huffed. “Fine, we’re switching roles. You’re going on the radio show now.”

“So then you’d be cheating on me?” he said. “I thought we needed this sting to be believable. Who’s ever going to believe that you’d cheat on someone like me?”

“Right in this second, it’d be very believable,” Chloe said.

“That you’d kill me, not cheat on me. There’s a difference.”

Oh, there it was. The Detective clenching her jaw to suppress the urge to shoot him (again). It wasn’t like that expression had been entirely absent lately, but Lucifer hadn’t seen it in the context of work since before Rory’s arrival. He realized he’d actually missed annoying the Detective with his quips. Or maybe he’d just missed getting out of the house and walking amongst the rest of the world. Sometimes caring for a toddler felt like being trapped in a Hell loop.

“Just get back in here,” Chloe demanded and then disappeared back into the meeting.

Over the phone, Amenadiel asked, “Which episode did you leave off at?”

“Don’t play a new episode!” Lucifer said. “Watch something she’s already seen before, something with the cow. She loves that.”

“What episode has a cow?”

“Oh for crying out loud — Google and IMDB are right there! Are you truly incapable of reading episode descriptions yourself?” Lucifer ran his hand over his face. “Just put on the pilot. That will buy you an hour and a half, especially if you feed her.” He barely allowed his brother to agree before he hung up.

Back inside the conference room, the planning for their sting operation to catch the copycat Broken Heart Killer was still underway. Lucifer returned to his seat with an extra loud sigh and earned himself an annoyed glare from Pierce.

“Are you finally finished?” the man asked.

Lucifer quipped, “With torturing my brother? No, I’m sure that will be a lifelong endeavor.”

He’d expected an eye roll or a reprimand from the others, perhaps even a smack of disapproval from Chloe if he’d walked into a particularly tense mood. He was baffled when, instead, Pierce fixed him with a long, long stare like the Lieutenant was trying to get a read on him.

Or cow him into submission.

“For the last time, I’m not playing the cheater!”

“I am. I already volunteered,” Charlotte said, raising her hand.

This was Charlotte’s first homicide case, too, since the Detective was benched from the Pillegi murder, and she seemed just as eager to help in any way she could.

Unfortunately, Chloe was just as resistant. “And I said that wasn’t a good idea. You’re a civilian. We’re not putting you in the direct line of danger.”

Charlotte argued, “You were just fine with putting Lucifer in danger. Besides, I would make a very believable cheater. The killer will have no trouble buying it.”

“Both compelling points,” Lucifer said. “However, someone else needs to go on the show then because I can’t date Charlotte.”

“I can do it,” Dan said.

“Fine,” Pierce said. “You’ll be the dupe on the radio show, and Charlotte will be the cheating girlfriend.”

“Oh….” Dan said. “No, I meant I’d be on the date.”

Pierce’s face went from casually annoyed to fuming enough to turn red. Curious to see if it could turn purple, Lucifer chimed in, “I agree. I think Dan should be on the date with Charlotte — Oh!” The realization hit him after hearing the words out loud, and he turned to Dan. “Is that why you suggested it? You’re trying to get a date in on the department’s dime?”

“What? No,” Dan hurriedly replied. “It’s to make sure there’s a cop there with her in case the serial killer shows up.”

Chloe said, “Plus, Dan really shouldn’t be on live radio. He can get awkward when he’s put on the spot.

Well, that was an even more ridiculous excuse than Daniel’s. “The man does improv— ow!” Lucifer exclaimed as Chloe kicked him. He rubbed his ankle with a frown.

“So, it’s settled, then?” Dan said. “Lucifer will go on the show, and Charlotte and I will be the bait?”

Alarm shot through Lucifer. “You still want me to pretend I’m dating Charlotte? But that’s inces— ow! Will you quit kicking me? That actually hurts when you do that.” Chloe glared at him, unrepentant, but he just glared right back. He didn’t see why he was being punished on his first case back. Dan got a free date while he had to pretend the woman whose body his mother inhabited for the better part of a year was cheating on him? How was that fair?

“Each of you better get your heads on straight before tonight. We already have four dead bodies. Let’s not make it six,” Pierce warned before dismissing them.

Well, that had taken forever. But finally, after weeks of pushing to be included, Charlotte was here working a case before the murderer was caught. Prosecuting criminals was all fine and good, but it didn’t seem like enough, especially when courtroom tactics could get just as underhanded as when she’d been defending the criminals. Did it still matter if she’d switched sides? What created guilt: her actions or intent? She had no idea, and her two angel contacts had been difficult to get a hold of lately.

Either way, it seemed wise to cover her bases. Safer to help the detectives catch the killers, too. That’s what would get her into Heaven according to Lucifer. Stick with Detective Decker and she’d be fine.

Unfortunately, Chloe hadn’t been assigned any cases lately, and all of the other homicide detectives were either incompetent, uninterested in her assistance, or both. For crying out loud, it had been a 911 operator who’d solved a murder last week. How embarrassing for the LAPD! Thank god, this serial killer had been big enough to call Chloe and Lucifer back into work.

(Er… not that Charlotte was grateful four people were dead. And she certainly wasn’t thanking God for their deaths. She was simply relieved to have this opportunity to prove herself useful and unburden some of her guilt so she could avoid returning to Hell. Though, she feared it would take a lifetime of homicide investigations to fully dig herself out of that hole.)

Just stick with the Chloe’s cases. And do better… whatever that means.

Volunteering to act as bait for a serial killer ought to count as doing better. It certainly wasn’t selfish or greedy which had been her primary motivators before she’d died. (Although, was it selfish if she only volunteered out of a desire to avoid Hell? Seriously, why couldn’t anyone give her a straight answer on the relationship between souls and guilt?)

She did have a few regrets now that she was inside Pierce’s house. The Lieutenant had insisted they stage the sting at his place because the large windows would grant the cops outside a clear view if the killer approached. And Charlotte could admit that the view from inside the house was rather impressive with the back facing out over the ocean. But she’d only managed a glance when they’d first arrived. Since then, she hadn’t been able to peel her eyes off the decor.

Every surface flat enough to serve as a shelf was filled with rocks. Hundreds and hundreds of rocks — maybe thousands, if she risked searching the whole house — all of varying shapes and sizes. But not a wide variety of colors. These weren’t crystals like the new age shops and scam artists hawked or even precious gemstones. A few held fossils, but for the most part these were plain, unpolished, brown and grey rocks like one might find during a hike. It was bizarre.

And a bit creepy, if she was being honest.

“Did the cops put cameras in these rocks?”

“Hm?” Dan looked up from the take-out he’d been setting up. “No, it’s just the one over the stairs watching the front door. The rest of the cameras are outside, focused on the perimeter. Why?”

Charlotte tipped her wine glass (filled with apple juice, not wine because they were ‘on duty’) at a particularly ugly rock on the kitchen hutch. “I think that one’s staring at me.”

Dan left the food and came over to lean against the island beside her. Charlotte sipped the weak apple juice and pretended not to notice the warmth of his shoulder as it pressed against hers.

“Not a fan of a man who collects rocks?” he asked.

Charlotte raised her eyebrow. “Let’s just say if we didn’t know Lieutenant Pierce lived here, I would’ve guessed this was the serial killer’s house.”

Dan laughed. “Yeah, he might be obsessed. But he’s not the craziest person on the team, though. Lucifer still thinks he’s the devil.”

A beat late, Charlotte forced herself to laugh, too. “Right. That is crazier.” While Dan returned to plating their food, she downed the rest of her glass and grimaced when the juice slid down smoothly. Why the hell weren’t they drinking wine? Or something even harder. She needed the burn of alcohol to stop the panic from rising. Dan’s words weren’t pointed at her. He didn’t know Lucifer was literally the Devil. And yet….

And yet, if Lucifer was crazy, then what did that make her, the person who died and spent a small eternity being tortured in Hell by her own guilt? Not crazy according to Dr. Linda, and technically, she wasn’t if Hell was real. But sometimes, Charlotte wished she didn’t know that, wished that she did still believe herself to be crazy.

Because if she wasn’t crazy, she was damned. And that was so much worse.

Clearing her throat, Charlotte asked Dan, “But you still trust Lucifer, right?” She made herself meet his eyes. “I mean, you must if he’s outside watching the cameras right now.”

“Hey,” Dan said in a gentle tone. “It’s okay. We have a ton of officers posted outside, watching the house and every route to it. The killer’s not going to be able to sneak up on us.”

That wasn’t really an answer. Then again, if Charlotte wanted an answer, she would’ve asked her real question: could he still trust her if he knew the truth?

A broken crackle drew their attention over to the walkie talkie. Through the intercom, a very young voice began to babble.

“Roger, roger. I’ll fly right over.”

“Oh, yeah,” Charlotte snorted. “I feel real safe now.” She grabbed the bottle of apple juice and refilled her glass.

“Lucifer, I thought you said she’d be asleep by now.”

Out in the van, Lucifer grumbled, “Oh yes, nagging. That’s very helpful, Daniel.” As if he wasn’t already engaged in an intense round of tug of war as he tried to win the radio back from his three year old menace. “How is your grip so strong, infant? You’re supposed to be mortal.”

Even Chloe wasn’t proving successful, and their daughter always obeyed her. What had gotten into Rory tonight?

“Lucifer, answer.”

Finally, he managed to pry the radio free. To Dan, he snapped, “Look! I made no promises tonight. The infant sleeps when she wants to sleep.”

“I’m helping!” Rory yelled over his shoulder, but Lucifer had already released the talk button.

“Just keep her off comms,” Dan said.

Lucifer rolled his eyes at Chloe, but before he could voice any of his numerous insults and complaints, the back doors of the van swung open.

They both jumped into action. Lucifer lunged for Rory as Chloe reached her gun and stood from her chair to shield them.

But the intruder was just Pierce.

“Marcus!” Rory cheered far too loudly. “Look, I’m helping!”

Pierce glowered. “Why is the toddler here again?”

“Because she insists she needs a cousin,” Lucifer answered. It was technically true. Amenadiel and Linda were currently on a non-homicide-related date, and Rory had been fussing more and more about missing her cousin, Charlie.

“She’ll fall asleep soon, sir,” Chloe (falsely in Lucifer’s estimate) promised. “And we’ll keep her quiet.”

“Quiet and off the comms,” Pierce said. “Do I need to watch the kid instead? Because I can’t have you two distracted.”

Lucifer’s hackles raised at the offer. He still hadn’t forgiven Pierce for being the one to protect the Detective from being shot a few months back. He certainly wasn’t going to hand over his daughter to this man.

“It rather looks like you’re the one distracting us. And threatening our cover by leaving the doors open.”

“We have it under control now,” Chloe cut in before Pierce’s glare could escalate. “Rory won’t be a problem.”

“Of course, she won’t,” Lucifer said. Rory was never a problem. Except when she was crying or time travelling or trying to reveal celestial information to the wrong person — but that had nothing to do with tonight’s sting operation.

Pierce’s glare didn’t fade, but he did step back out of the van. “Just do your job,” he said before shutting the doors again.

“Well, someone’s certainly taking this case personally,” Lucifer said.

But Chloe ignored him and turned to speak to their daughter. “Hey baby, if you want to help us, you should go grab your radio so you can listen for the bad guy, too.”

Rory glanced briefly at the toy she’d abandoned on the floor and then shook her head. “No, mine’s broken.”

“Oh, you noticed that cheap, aqua plastic wasn’t real electronics?” Lucifer gave Chloe an ‘I told you so’ look. “Shocking.”

Chloe shrugged. “It was worth a try.”

“I want to help you up here.” Rory shoved her way past Lucifer’s knees to pin herself between him and the desk. Lucifer scooped her up and placed her on his lap so she wouldn’t be so close to the monitor.

Chloe warned her, “If you’re going to sit up here with us, then you need to be really quiet, okay?”

“Whisper-quiet?” Rory asked in a breathy voice that wasn’t any quieter.

“No, mice-quiet,” Chloe answered, lowering her own volume.

Rory nodded and switched into a genuine whisper. “Oh, okay.”

Lucifer stared at her in shock. “Since when can you whisper?”

Rory grabbed for his mouth with scolding frown. “Be mice-quiet, Daddy.” He pushed her hand away, and she switched her attention to the camera feeds.

Lucifer looked over to Chloe. “Mice-quiet?” he mouthed, but Chloe just shrugged again.

This wasn’t the first time she’d known the exact right phrasing needed to get their daughter to obey. Since the day Rory arrived, Chloe had possessed the unique ability to communicate with the girl. It’d been a convenient fluke at first, but now they knew it wasn’t a fluke at all. Chloe knew how to communicate with Rory because she’d raised her. Even if she didn’t have memories of Rory’s future, it was still her parenting instincts and techniques. Whatever she thought should work did work, and that was great. Fantastic. Dad knew they’d be utterly fucked if the girl refused to listen to either one of them — but still. It hurt to see them share a vocabulary he didn’t understand.

Rory shifted on his lap. He resettled her so she wouldn’t fall off.

“Daddy,” she asked, “are we looking for good-guy bad guys or monster bad guys?”

“I don’t understand the difference.” He glanced over to Chloe, but this time she looked lost, too. Apparently, these terms were Rory’s own invention.

“A monster bad guy is when they make the bad guys a monster like in Moana, and a good-guy bad guy is like the big meanie with Anna.”

“Oh,” Chloe said. “You mean Prince Hans in Frozen?”

“Yeah, he’s a big meanie,” Rory said with her toddler-sized glare.

The (what Lucifer assumed were) cartoon examples weren’t particularly helpful, but he got the gist. “The bad guy will look human.”

“Oh, okay.” Rory nodded. “Like in Fringe! Fringe has a lot of good-guy bad guys. And a lot of monster good guys.” She abruptly twisted around. “Are you a monster good guy too, Daddy?”

“A what?”

“A monster good guy. Auntie Maze is!” Rory squealed too loudly. She dropped her voice again when Chloe shushed her. “She’s a demon monster. Look!”

She covered her left eye and then scrunched up her face with a growl. With a jolt, Lucifer realized she was trying to mimic Maze’s demon face.

“I love when she plays with me and Charlie.” Rory giggled. “Do you have a monster face too, Daddy?”

When she poked at his cheek, Lucifer quickly twisted her around to face forward again. “Just watch the monitor, alright?”

His heart raced in his chest and breathing turned ragged. Rory arrived already knowing who he was, who Maze was. She was an angel herself; it wasn’t a surprise. But the casualness with which she’d called him a monster and asked to see his Devil face, that shook him to his core. He didn’t even want the Detective to ever see his Devil face — especially after seeing how she’d reacted to his wings. But Rory? In no timeline or universe did he ever want his daughter to see him for the monster he really was.

For once, the allure of a special, important job like catching bad guys was more appealing than arguing with him, and Rory watched the camera feeds in silence. Lucifer fought to forget about the talk of monsters, but he could see Chloe watching him in the corner of his eye and braced himself for prying questions.

“Is that why you kept Rory with us tonight?”

Lucifer frowned. He didn’t see the connection between that and his Devil face. “What?”

“Charlie. Is that why you didn’t ask Amenadiel to reschedule his date with Linda?” Chloe asked.

Oh. She wasn’t asking about his Devil face after all. The dread dissipated, leaving Lucifer feeling empty rather than relieved.

“Mostly I just didn’t want to hear my brother’s whining if I’d made him reschedule,” he answered. “But I suppose her cousin is a factor if we don’t want to change the future. Isn’t he supposed to be born soon?”

“His birthday is in December or January, but she didn’t say the year.”

Lucifer ran the math. “Well, if it’s this year, conception would be right on time.”

He tried to make it a joke. It was a joke in some ways. The idea of Amenadiel having a child was just as laughable as Lucifer having one — more so, even, since they’d never met Charlie in the flesh. Right now, Amenadiel’s son only existed as a story told by a three year old.

But Rory still sat on his lap in the all too real present day. That made the story real as well. Linda could become pregnant any day now. She and Amenadiel could have a son before the year ends. And if the rest of the story was accurate, if Charlie was only a ‘little bit’ older than Rory, then Rory could be born as early as March next year.

March. It was nearly March now. They might only be twelve short months away from Rory’s birth and much, much closer to her conception date.

The way Chloe watched their daughter made him suspect she’d realized this as well.

“Detective,” he began, “I know we’ve discussed keeping Rory here with us or somehow sending her back to her own time, but there are other ways to change the future.”

Chloe’s eyes flicked up to him, wary. But Lucifer intended to put her mind at ease.

“The future isn’t some iron-clad contract we’re locked into, after all. We can always choose to ignore it.”

“Ignore it?”

“Yes,” Lucifer said. “So if you’re feeling any pressure to sleep with me just because the future says we have a daughter, you should know you don’t have to worry about that. Nothing in our relationship needs to change just because the future says it should.”

The future, God — what was the difference, really? Both were trying to control their lives.

But Chloe looked far from reassured. In fact, she looked pissed.

“You’re seriously trying to have this conversation now? Here?”

“It’s not really a conversation. I’m just letting you know you’re off the hook. You’re not trapped into doing something you don’t want—“

“I don’t know what I want!” Chloe snapped. “That’s an impossible choice to make anyway.”

Fear seized hold of Lucifer. “Why impossible? Why would you say that?” There was no way she could have learned she was a gift from God. He’d certainly never told her. Rory might have, given how loose-lipped she could be, but someone else would’ve had to tell her first.

“Because!” Chloe gestured at their daughter. “Because she’s real, and she’s already ours — mine. And I will always choose my daughter. There’s never another option.” She sharply stopped and shook her head. “We’re not talking about this now.”

But they needed to talk about it. Lucifer still wasn’t convinced Chloe hadn’t somehow found out she was a gift, and she had certainly missed his point. He was trying to relieve the pressure of having a child with him, not add to it. Obviously, some course correction was required. However, when he tried to speak, Rory interrupted.

“It’s gonna go boom!” She pointed at the screen.

Chloe turned her attention to the camera feeds as well. “Is that smoke?”

“Where?” Lucifer frowned and checked. He didn’t see smoke anywhere, although… the inside of Pierce’s house did appear to be fogging up.

“He knocks them out with gas,” Chloe said, already moving towards the back door. “Stay in the van!”

“You’re not going out there alone!” Lucifer stood as well, but the Detective shouted at him again before he could follow.

“I said stay in the van with her!”

He glanced down at tiny, little Rory who stood next to the desk and watched them with wide, worried eyes. While he hesitated, the Detective slipped out and slammed the van door shut behind her.

“The bloody inconvenience,” he cursed. He added to Rory, “You couldn’t have arrived when you were older and more capable of taking care of yourself?”

“Uh oh! Did we find the bad guy?”

“Yes.” Although, ‘find’ was a generous word. Lucifer couldn’t see shit on these paltry monitors. Why couldn’t a stakeout van have some usefully placed windows? This was ridiculous!

He should be out there with Chloe. The last time she’d confronted a killer without him, she’d nearly been shot, and he refused to rely on Pierce to protect her a second time when the Lieutenant should’ve never been necessary in the first place.

“We need a window, infant.” He darted through the curtain to reach the van’s cab and eyed up the driver’s side window. “Small, but it’ll suffice.”

He slid into the front seat and rolled down the window. Staying in the van just meant his feet weren’t allowed to touch the pavement, or that’s what he’ll tell the Detective if she decided to get nitpicky about it later. Lucifer leaned his torso out the window and took in the grounds. There was no movement in the front of the house. He didn’t spot a single officer around, either. Perhaps they had chased the killer around the back?

A persistent set of knees and palms thudded against his own back. “I need to see. I need to see,” Rory chanted, but Lucifer ignored her. If he could feel her poking him, then he knew exactly where she was and wouldn’t need to worry about her.

Movement. A shadow emerged from the corner of the house and began heading their way. Lucifer stretched his neck to determine if it was the Detective.

It wasn’t. Even in the streetlights, the figure remained shadowed. It was someone dressed to remain hidden, and they would’ve succeeded if not for the obvious gas mask pulled over their face.

Chloe had the van keys — because she was the police officer and he was the consultant, but more likely because she knew he’d be tempted to take the giant stakeout van on a joyride — so Lucifer couldn’t cut the killer off that way. And he couldn’t get out and confront them because he couldn’t leave Rory alone in the van.

Thankfully, the Detective emerged from the corner as well. She sprinted after the killer, only a second behind. She’d be able to catch up to them, Lucifer knew that for certain, but there was no telling if the perp had a getaway vehicle waiting idle somewhere.

Lucifer looked back at Rory and ordered, “Hit the horn, infant!”

With glee, Rory slammed her whole bodyweight against the steering wheel. The horn blared out bright and clear and shockingly loud to anyone not expecting it — like the killer. The sprinting figure seemed to convulse midstride. Their feet slipped out from under them, and then they slammed, gas mask first, onto the pavement.

Lucifer laughed. “Aha, got you!”

The perp tried to push themselves upright, but Chloe arrived and shoved them back to the ground and then pulled their hands behind their back. Phew! Lucifer grinned. Watching the Detective arrest someone was a sight he’d never tire of.

Rory pawed at his back again, so Lucifer pulled himself back inside the van and opened the driver’s door so they could both enjoy the view.

“Lucifer!” Chloe scolded. “I told you to stay in the van!”

“And here we are.” Lucifer pulled Rory onto his lap. “See? Both of us, safe and sound.”

The killer mumbled something as they were pulled upright, and Chloe pulled off the gas-mask to hear them better. Lucifer immediately recognized the man under the mask as someone they’d encountered during the Broken Heart Killer guided tour.

“Oh, it’s you!” He explained to Rory, “That’s the man that bought the original killer’s house. We should’ve guessed he would turn out to be the copycat.”

“Did we win?” his daughter asked.

“Of course, we did. Who do you think your mother’s leading around in handcuffs?”

“The bad guy! We did it!” Rory stood up on Lucifer’s lap and tried to shake his shoulders. “Daddy, we catch bad guys, too!”

“Yes, I know. I told you it wasn’t just your mother’s job.” He swung her back around to sit down. Spotting the exasperation on Chloe’s face, he called out, “You’re welcome, by the way!”

“Go, Mommy, go! Go, Mommy, go!” Rory chanted as Chloe handed off the perp to another officer. The cheers successfully melted away the Detective’s concern, and she shot a smile and quick wave back to them.

As the police read the copycat killer his rights and walked him away, Lucifer held out his hand for a five. “Perfect timing on the horn, imp.” Rory smacked his hand so enthusiastically it actually stung. But he just chuckled and pulled her closer to kiss the top of her head.

“We’re badasses!” Rory declared.

“We are, indeed,” he agreed with a grin.

Chapter Text

Nothing cut deeper than betrayal. Lucifer knew that better than anyone. First, with his Father banishing him from Heaven and none of his siblings having the guts to stand up for him. Then, with the revelation that the Detective was put on Earth solely to manipulate him.

And now, he’d been betrayed by Fringe.

Lucifer yanked the remote out of his daughter’s reach. “I said we’re done!”

“No!” Rory stomped her feet. “I want more!”

“And I said no! Were you not paying attention in that episode? Walter experimented on Olivia!”

“Is that why you’re so angry?” Trixie asked. She still sat on the couch, unperturbed by the dangers of a furious and flailing toddler, although she had clapped her hands over her ears to muffle the crying.

“Yes, and that’s why Fringe is officially banned in this house.” Lucifer tossed the television remote up onto the highest shelf behind the bar where Rory wouldn’t be able to reach until she grew into her wings.

Trixie argued, “But that means he gave her those superpowers. That’s so cool!”

“It is not cool.” Lucifer marched back over. “He took away her free will, turned her into a pawn for some twisted game that only he knows the rules to. I’ve said this from the very beginning: Walter Bishop is a tyrant!”

Rory sobbed, “No, I love Walter! Put it back!”

“No, you don’t. You just love his cow,” Lucifer yelled back. “And you shouldn’t love him, because he’s evil and the worst kind of human: the kind who tries to out-god God. You know, the rest of those people should be marching on his lab with pitchforks and flames. Let Walter burn!”

The imp gnashed her teeth.

Lucifer wasn’t impressed. “Nice try, but your mother isn’t around to make that a viable threat.”

“Fringe!” Rory screeched and punched his leg.

“No!”

This time, she did bite him. Just lunged forward and clamped her mouth down on his arm. Lucifer expected the pressure. He didn’t expect the piercing sharpness.

“Ow!” He jerked away and examined the micro-sized teeth marks now dotting his skin. A few managed to dig deep enough to draw blood. “Were your teeth forged in Hell or is your full strength coming in?” Rory resumed pummeling his legs, and Lucifer slipped around behind her to pick her up. “Enough of that!”

“Lucifer!” Trixie still covered her ears and her voice had taken on a shade of pleading that almost sounded like whining. Lucifer had never even realized the Urchin was capable of real, infant-like whining, but after spending half of the last month with her, he was hearing the tone more and more.

“What?” he snapped. Rory flailed against his grip, but he held her at arm’s length away so those Hell teeth couldn’t reach him.

“She needs a distraction.”

“She needs a time out according to every parenting book.”

Trixie scrunched her face in disgust. “Time outs never work. McKenna and I always have to find some way to distract her baby brother so he’ll stop crying and bugging us.”

Ugh, children’s brains were too infuriatingly simple! Distractions didn’t work either. Lucifer had already tried it! Ran off to Vegas to forget his Father’s manipulations and then missed the Detective so much, he came running right back. Pathetic.

“Name one distraction that’s ever worked for you,” he said.

“They don’t,” Trixie admitted with a shrug. “But she’s only three.”

Lucifer eyed the still screeching Rory. She pried at his hands holding her aloft with the single-minded determination of Maze hunting down a bounty. Even at three, there was no way a distraction would work on this child.

“I suppose we can at least take her somewhere quieter.”

The Urchin glared at him when the elevator deposited them in the parking garage.

“This is worse,” she shouted over Rory’s echoing sobs.

“Fine, so I prioritized the breakables over silence,” Lucifer admitted. He’d kept a firm hold on Rory despite several punishing kicks to his ribcage, but now he released her onto the floor. Immediately, all of the infant’s anger evaporated, and Rory collapsed back onto her butt to cry out the rest of her feelings.

Trixie heaved a sigh. “But it’s boring down here. Why can’t we just go back upstairs and watch a different show?”

Lucifer said, “Trust me, she won’t be satisfied with a different television show.” Not when Rory’s heart was already set on one. He was far too aware of that fact, too.

With a petulant groan, Trixie surrendered and shuffled away to examine the only point of interest in a parking garage: the cars. She passed two Porsches and a Spitfire and then stopped in front of one of his Bugattis. “I guess there’s a lot of rich people that live here, huh?”

“Actually, most of the floors are offices so they won’t be bothered by the club at night.”

“Really? So, there’s this many rich people who still bother working?”

“What people?” Lucifer frowned in offense. “I’m the owner of these cars.”

“What?!” the Urchin exclaimed. “All of them?”

“Yes, I own this entire floor.” Lucifer shook his head. Why did the child think he brought them down here? He wasn’t sure the residents of Hell deserved to have Rory’s disappointed shrieks inflicted upon them, let alone random passers-by, and he definitely couldn’t risk anyone seeing her wings. She’d revealed them before during tantrums — that was how Chloe first saw them. Lucifer figured he could explain it away if Trixie saw them, but explaining an infant with wings to a crowd of strangers would be much more difficult. It was better to isolate until the tantrum had run its course.

Trixie gaped at him like he’d said he owned all of Los Angeles instead of a single floor of an underground parking garage. Then, she snapped her mouth shut and bolted back to her sister.

“Rory! Rory, look! Do you see all these cars? Your daddy owns them all! These are all your cars!”

Oh, now… Lucifer wasn’t sure about that. It seemed disingenuous to call these cars Rory’s when he wasn’t around for her future. As far as he was aware, the only things he’d ever given her were half her genes and her middle name. (And even that, he still struggled to believe. How could he have helped name her if he’d never been there for her?)

He did have an attorney on retainer to manage his assets in case he was ever forced to return to Hell. They would also take charge of things if he ever died simply because that was standard when mortals made such kind of arrangements. Lucifer had dismissed that particular clause as irrelevant since he’d been entirely immortal at the time — but what would happen to something like his car collection if he died? Would Rory automatically inherit it? Had he known the end was coming beforehand and signed over all of his assets into a trust in Rory’s name, or was the end an abrupt surprise?

Trixie pulled Rory to her feet. “Come on! Let’s go look at them.”

Slowly, her excitement won the infant over. Her tears subsided into hiccups and then sniffles as she blinked up into Trixie’s winning grin.

“Come on, Rory!”

The Urchin looked eager to sprint through the garage, but Rory could only manage to toddle after such a long cry. So, Trixie slowed the pace and walked her from car to car, pointing out different features.

“Look, it’s so shiny! And look that one looks like it has bug eyes with the headlights. Isn’t it funny?”

The tears tracks were still damp enough to glisten under the florescent lights, but Rory began to smile and her steps steadied enough to pick up the pace as Trixie led them to a different car.

“And look, this one’s baby blue. That’s so pretty!”

“That’s powder blue,” Lucifer corrected. “If you’re going to critique my cars, can you at least do it accurately?”

Trixie halted. “Critique?”

“It means assess, pass judgment.”

“I know what it means, but how am I critiquing?” Trixie didn’t wait for an answer. “Hey, which car is the most expensive one you own?”

“What, you can’t tell on your own? Last week, you had a whole laundry list for what counted as a fancy car.”

Trixie arched her eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”

Lucifer flicked his eyes down to the infant who looked enthralled by their exchange. Maybe the distraction was working, after all.

“Yes, it is,” he said.

“What do I get if I win?”

“Pride.”

“Pride doesn’t pay the bills.”

“You don’t pay the bills, that’s why you’re a mooch and an urchin,” Lucifer said. “Fine, I’ll give you twenty bucks.”

“Twenty?” Trixie said, offended. “Can I have the car?”

“You want my most expensive car for nothing? No!” He sighed. “How about I have a custom Hot Wheels made for you, instead?”

“A Hot Wheels car is worth less than the twenty!”

This negotiation was swiftly becoming as unbearable as the infant’s crying. “Okay, fine,” Lucifer relented. “Then, if you guess correctly, you’ll win a favor to be named later. Are you happy?”

Trixie grinned. “Okay!” And then, she took off sprinting down the aisle, too determined to win that favor than to wait for baby sis.

Thankfully, Rory’s determination had returned as well, and she chased after her in a toddler version of a sprint. “Tee! Tee, wait!”

Lucifer expected the Urchin to be terrible at identifying which of his cars was the most expensive, and he was right. Trixie made her first guess before even viewing half the garage as she pointed to a red Stingray.

“Is it this one?”

“Is that your final answer?” Lucifer asked with a benign smile that made Trixie narrow her eyes.

“No!” And she resumed her search.

Lucifer was less certain Rory understood the game’s intention. But not understanding didn’t stop her from gleefully running between cars and pointing excitedly at something that caught her interest. As her mood improved, so did Lucifer’s, especially when she stopped being angry at him for banning her favorite TV show and allowed him to explain what some of the cars were.

“This one is designed for drag racing,” he said about a bright yellow AMC Rebel. “It’s a 1969, but the exhaust has been completely modernized to help the engine run cooler. You can’t legally run it in a sanctioned drag race, but the sanctioned races aren’t any fun anyway.”

“Does it go fast?” Rory asked.

“Yes, it does,” Lucifer said, and Rory grinned. “If you really want fast, though, you should check out my Thunderbolt.”

“Thunder!”

“I store it in my climate-controlled garage, but maybe we can drive out there later. Then, we can blow your sister’s mind with my really expensive cars.”

Speaking of.

“Lucifer!” Trixie called out for the fifth time. “Is this your most expensive car?”

He glanced over at the green Chevy she pointed to. A convertible top, yes, but also one of the least expensive cars parked here. “Is that your final answer?”

She huffed, “No,” and then walked off to look elsewhere.

Suddenly, Rory squealed. She sprinted away from Lucifer. “Tee, Tee! It’s your car! We found it!”

She ran over to a car Trixie had just passed. Lucifer stood back up for a better look. The car was a 2008 Chrysler Crossfire Roadster. Not drag-racing performance, but still powerful. Mid-range price point. It was far from the most expensive car in the garage.

But it was orange. And a convertible. Just like the patch Rory had insisted on when she was designing matching jackets for her and Trixie a mere two weeks and a thousand revelations ago.

“Look, Tee!” Rory patted the car’s hood. “Princess Marmalade.”

(Ugh, right. Princess Marmalade. How could he have forgotten that ridiculous name she’d used when selecting the jacket patch?)

Trixie walked back to the car. “Yeah, that looks cool…. Hey, wait! Does it change colors?”

Rory grinned back at Lucifer. “It sparkles, Daddy. Do you see it?”

The car didn’t sparkle, not like Rory meant. But it did use a pearlescent paint that shifted the orange into other hues of blue and green depending on the angle of the light, and to a three year old who didn’t know what pearlescent paint was, ‘sparkle’ was an accurate enough term.

“It’s a convertible!” Trixie exclaimed when she spotted the roof line. She ran closer to peek in the windows. “And leather seats and — wow, is that a CD player? It’s older than Bluetooth!”

She gave Lucifer a suspicious look, “Is this your most expensive car?”

It’s your car, he thought. Though it should be impossible, somehow, someway, Trixie drove this exact car in the future. His head spun at the realization.

“Lucifer,” Trixie prompted. “Did I actually guess right?”

“Is that your final answer?” he managed to say.

The Urchin groaned in disappointment. “I’ll find the right car, eventually. Don’t help me!”

“No, Tee!” Rory called as she wandered off. “Tee, we need to drive!”

“You’re not driving anywhere,” Lucifer said, squatting down beside his daughter for an explanation.

“No, Tee is. I want to drive with Tee.” She put on a great big pout that had proven extremely effective at winning an extra dessert from him, but it held no power now.

“She’s not allowed to drive yet.”

Rory whined. “No, please! Mommy said Tee can drive me when I’m bigger, and I’m bigger now.”

Mommy said. Something Rory was told in the future when her older sister was driving one of his cars.

“Are you bigger?” Lucifer asked. “Or is Trixie now smaller?”

The question took the imp by surprise. “Um….” Rory glanced over to her sister and considered. “No, I’m bigger,” she declared with a finality that Lucifer put no trust in.

“How old is your sister?”

“No, she can drive! She already had her birthday.”

“She had her birthday. So, could she not drive before? Did she just get her license?”

“Yes,” Rory said. “But she has it and she practiced a lot and now she’s a really good driver. So, can we, Daddy?” She clasped her hands together to plead.

“You just said your mother doesn’t let you.”

“No, I’m bigger now. Ask her.”

She reached for his pocket where he kept his phone, but Lucifer remained focused on the future at hand.

“Is your sister in high school if she has her driver’s license? … Rory, is she?”

Rory pouted because he didn’t pull out his phone. “She’s a big kid in big kid school.”

“What’s big kid school supposed to mean? Is that high school or college? Does she still live at home or did she move out?”

“No!” Rory jumped back in alarm. “No, she’s not leaving us! Not for a long time, she promised! Tee, you promised!”

“Promised you what?”

“She’s not leaving yet. She’s just looking at the grown up schools. She promised, she’s not leaving for a long time.”

That answer still wasn’t clear enough. “How much is a long time? A year from now?”

“No, no!” Rory whined. “A long time! A really long time, she promised!”

Longer than a year. Two school years, then? That would put Trixie around a high school junior. Sixteen or seventeen, could drive, and was beginning to consider college. Six or seven years from now?

No. Six years. Rory still believed it was summer and not the early spring that it was. Summer with two school years left before Trixie might attend college would be 2024. Rory had came to them from the summer of 2024.

Which meant her birthday wouldn’t be next year. Her cousin Charlie might still be born within the next year if two years could be both ‘only a little’ and ‘a really long time’ to a toddler, but Rory wouldn’t be born until….

2021. March 23, 2021.

That had been the unanswered question haunting them since Rory’s arrival. Where had she come from, when would she be born — well, they had the answer now, and it didn’t assuage any of Lucifer’s fears. Instead of careening out of control towards a child, they were floating in a cloudy void stretching for ages before them. Three years until Rory’s birth, six years until her future — so, why was she here in front of him, now? What pushed her back in time to 2018?

“Why are you here?” he voiced out loud.

Rory reached for his phone again. “Ask Mommy. She’ll say it’s okay.”

Lucifer doubted Chloe would be any more okay with this than he was.

Chloe frowned over her write-up of Joel Leeds’ arrest. She couldn’t decide how to handle Rory’s involvement. Include it? Ignore it? Leaving a permanent record of Rory in a year that she shouldn’t exist in seemed like asking for trouble, but would Pierce reprimand her if she left out information? He’d been extremely hands on with the case and might scrutinize their reports to avoid any trial mishaps.

She debated a few more minutes before admitting there was no debate. Protecting her daughter would always trump a criminal trial.

Lucifer sent her a text. The attached picture showed a car sitting in a parking garage.

The Urchin’s car. Rory recognized it.

Chloe read the text again but still couldn’t make sense of it. Trixie didn’t have a car. She was ten—

Oh.

In the future. Rory had mentioned Trixie’s car from the future. It was while showing off the matching denim jackets she’d picked out during her shopping trip with Lucifer. There’d been those patches on Trixie’s that referenced things Chloe didn’t recognize including an orange convertible.

The car in the picture was an orange convertible.

The same make? Chloe texted back.

The same car, Lucifer replied. It’s mine.

Chloe exhaled. Why would Trixie have one of your cars?

I don’t know.

Even through text, she could hear the finality in his tone. Lucifer was as stunned by this news as she was. It just didn’t make any sense. She and Dan hadn’t had any serious discussions about Trixie’s first car yet (because again, she was only ten), but they had a few agreed-upon ground rules. Something safe and used, and nothing that would emotionally or financially hurt to replace if she got into a wreck. Every one of Lucifer’s cars were excluded by one rule or another — and even if they weren’t, she and Dan would never gift one of Lucifer’s cars to Trixie, anyway. And if Lucifer wasn’t around in the future, then he couldn’t have gifted Trixie the car…. Unless, he had still been there when Trixie turned sixteen.

Chloe’s thumbs hovered over the screen as she wondered if Lucifer had put that together, too, and realized Rory might be from a future further away than they’d guessed. Before she could form the question, though, Dan walked over. He immediately picked up on her concern.

“Are the kids okay?”

“Uh, yeah.” Chloe swiftly scrolled back up to the picture. “Trixie is just car shopping at Lucifer’s.”

Dan looked at the convertible and grimaced. “Yep, that’s on us. We did teach her to dream big.”

Chloe forced a chuckle. “Yeah, I guess we did.”

“Hey, so what’s Trix’s plans for tomorrow?” Dan asked. “Am I picking her up at school or your place — or Lucifer’s, I guess. I don’t know where you’ll be tomorrow.”

She frowned. “Why wouldn’t you pick her up from school?”

“Is she going?” Dan asked. “She usually takes the day off with you.”

“What are you talking about?”

He arched his eyebrow. “Uh, tomorrow…” he said, slowly. “Wait, you didn’t forget, did you?”

The realization crashed over Chloe like ice. February was over. March had rolled right in. She’d written the date in her arrest report and didn’t even register it, but she pulled up her calendar again to confirm.

Tomorrow was the anniversary of her father’s death.

“No. No, no, no, no.” It was tomorrow. How was it tomorrow already? She hadn’t even requested the day off work, yet.

Dan watched her, worried. “You really didn’t remember tomorrow was the anniversary? You never miss it.”

“I know,” Chloe said. She’d been caught off guard this year, too wrapped up in Rory’s future and had forgotten to pay attention to the present. How had she done that? She always sensed the anniversary coming, always felt herself dreading it before she even consciously registered the date. She had never once been surprised by the anniversary.

“I have to talk to Pierce.”

She’d been prepared to plead, to give up two vacation days, a full week — whatever it took to get tomorrow off at the last minute. But it turned out, she didn’t have to plead at all. Pierce said yes without even waiting for an explanation. Chloe nearly asked if he was serious but caught herself. There was a reason for the saying ‘don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.’

“Thank you, sir.”

“You caught a serial killer, this week,” Pierce said. “Good work.”

Almost like you should’ve been assigning me cases all along, Chloe thought as she left his office. But they could have that conversation later. First, she needed to get through tomorrow’s anniversary.

Chloe came home to the penthouse still feeling on edge. She looked around for Trixie, but the second she walked through the door, three voices bombarded her at once.

“Detective, I need to talk to you.”

“Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!”

“Mom, Lucifer cheated earlier.”

“We’ve been over this. You lost fair and square.”

“By a hundred dollars!” Trixie argued. “For a car, that’s basically the same price.”

Lucifer said, “It was your third guess, and you were off by thousands of dollars the first two tries.”

Trixie walked off in a sulk while Rory tugged at Chloe’s arm.

“Mommy, come play with me.”

“In a minute, baby,” Chloe said. “I need to talk to your sister, first.” She kissed the top of Rory’s head and then tracked down her oldest reclined on the couch.

Trixie sat up straight when she approached. “I’m not in trouble, am I? It was just a guessing game.”

Chloe shook her head. “No, of course not. That’s not what this is about. I just need to talk to you about tomorrow.”

“What’s tomorrow?”

“Um,” Chloe took a breath, “actually, it is the anniversary of my father’s death.”

Trixie’s eyes widened. “Oh. I thought that was Friday.”

“You’re doing better than me, then.” Chloe smiled. “It managed to completely sneak up on me this year. But I was able to get tomorrow off at work, so if you still want to stay home from school, you can do that.”

In previous years, the answer had been an immediate yes, but this time, Trixie paused to think it over. “Would it be possible to still go to my first two classes, and then you pick me up?”

“You want to go to school?”

“Only for history,” Trixie said. “We have a test tomorrow, and it’ll be really easy. But if I miss it, Mr. Cooke will change it to all essay questions and it’ll be a nightmare.”

Teachers like Mr. Cooke were the ones who made Chloe grateful she had been homeschooled all her life. Yes, she’d missed out on major events like school dances and Homecoming week, but she had also never had to deal with tests that changed depending on which day you took them.

“Okay,” she said. “We’ll make sure you’re there for your history test, and then you can leave with me. Deal?”

“Deal.” Trixie smiled. “And that means, I no longer have to do homework tonight.”

Chloe scoffed. “Oh, you’re definitely still doing your homework tonight.”

“But I won’t be in any of those classes tomorrow.”

“If you’re going to school in the morning, then you can turn in all of your homework,” Chloe said. “There’s no reason to push it off a night.”

Trixie had that look that said she wanted to argue, but she settled for just sighting. “Fine, I’ll go get started.”

“Thank you, monkey,” Chloe called after her as her daughter trudged off to fetch her backpack. A few feet away, Lucifer stood, watching her. But before either of them could say anything, she was glomped by an enthusiastic toddler.

“Mommy, come play now!”

“Oh, my other little monkey.” Chloe scooped up Rory sat down on the couch with her. “First, I need to talk to you, too.”

Rory adorably tilted her head. “Why?”

“Well, because tomorrow is a really important day for us,” Chloe said. “Have I ever told you about my father, before? Your Grandpa Decker.”

“Grandpa,” Rory repeated with recognition. “Decker sandwiches!”

“That’s right!” Chloe smiled. She was relieved to hear her future self was keeping up the tradition. “We get to have Decker egg sandwiches in the morning.”

“Yum!” Rory hugged her tummy. “Is tomorrow Grandpa’s birthday?”

Chloe’s smile slipped away. Gently, she shook her head. “No, baby. It’s not his birthday. It’s a different important day. You know that Grandpa died a long time ago, right?” Rory nodded. “So, tomorrow is the anniversary. It’s the day where I had to say goodbye to him.”

“Goodbye?” Rory puzzled through this and then said, “Oh, it’s his bad birthday.”

“No baby, it’s not his birthday.”

“No, the bad birthday when he’s not here anymore.”

Her heart squeezed in her chest when she saw Rory mimic a sad face. Her baby girl was too precious. “Is that what you call it?” she asked, pushing a strand of hair back that had escaped Rory’s half-ponytail. “A bad birthday?”

“Yeah, because it’s bad.”

Chloe nodded. “Well, I’m definitely going to be sad tomorrow, but it’s okay to be sad. And we’re still going to have a really good day anyway, right?”

“With Decker sandwiches!” Rory yelled. “I’ll help!”

Chloe laughed as her daughter took off running for the kitchen. “Those are for the morning, baby girl.”

She stood up to supervise, but Lucifer still watched her from nearby. She paused when she reached him. “I’m sorry, did you have something you needed to talk to me about?”

“Tomorrow is the anniversary of your father’s death?”

Chloe breathed out. “Yeah, I lost track of time this year. Can’t imagine why,” she added with a chuckle.

“What do you need?” Lucifer asked.

“Nothing. You don’t have to do anything.”

“Except Rory’s been extra temperamental all week and only has an identifiable reason for it half the time,” Lucifer said. “You don’t need to spend tomorrow wrangling two needy urchins.”

“No, I want Rory there. It’s important to me.”

“Yes, but you don’t have to do it by yourself, that’s my point. I can help,” Lucifer said.

Chloe stopped to properly look at him. She took in his earnest expression as his words sunk in. He wanted to help. Tomorrow. On the anniversary of her father’s death. She hadn’t even considered asking him to participate, would’ve assumed he wouldn’t be interested if she had thought about it. But it seemed she was wrong. And now that she was thinking about it, she knew she wanted him there, too.

Slowly, she nodded. “If you want to…. I have to take Trixie to school for a bit, but we usually visit the cemetery in the morning and then do lunch somewhere.”

“Ah then, I should definitely accompany you,” Lucifer said. “Dad only knows what a baby angel will spout off at a cemetery.”

Biting her lip to keep the swell of emotion at bay, Chloe nodded in agreement.

With the windows rolled down, they managed to catch a breeze in the school parking lot. Chloe checked the time again. Trixie wasn’t very clear on what time her history class would get out, but hopefully, it was soon.

Rory gently bopped her feet against her car seat in the back. “Daddy,” she said, “do you know what a bad birthday is?”

Lucifer twisted around to face her. “I know what a death anniversary is, but I don’t know why you call it a birthday. It’s literally the opposite.”

“No, it’s a bad birthday,” Rory corrected.

“Define it, then,” Lucifer said. “What’s the difference between a birthday and a bad birthday? Other than the quality of the presents.”

“No, only birthdays have presents, and they have cake,” Rory said. “And they’re really happy because everyone’s there to cheer for you, but a bad birthday is really sad because the person we love isn’t there anymore.”

Lucifer frowned at Chloe. “Is this another one of your terms like mice-quiet?”

Chloe shook her head. “No, I think she came up with this one all on her own.” To Rory, she asked, “Is it because the anniversary happens once a year like a birthday?”

“Yeah, but it’s a bad one,” Rory repeated. “And we don’t have cake. We get flowers, instead, and go to the sementery—“

Lucifer cracked up laughing. Chloe turned away and bit her lip to keep from doing the same.

“Don’t laugh, Daddy!” Rory said. “This is serious!”

“Sementery,” Lucifer said, still laughing.

Chloe smacked his arm. “Stop it.” Though, some chuckles of her own escaped, too.

“Sementery, though!”

“Lucifer.”

“Daddy!” Rory scolded. “That’s mean!”

Lucifer fought to calm himself. “Right. Well, you’re certainly inventive with your vocabulary, infant.”

“I know. I’m smart,” Rory said and then haughtily turned to look out the window.

“You know?” Chloe laughed. “What happened to you saying thank you all the time?”

Their daughter clapped her hands to her cheeks. “Thank you! Uh oh!”

Still grinning, Lucifer said, “Your know-it-all oldest is rubbing off on her.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” Chloe said. “I’ve already heard glimpses of that teenage snark.” She reached back to tickle Rory’s feet. “That’s probably why you’re so good at rolling your eyes, too.” Rory cackled and kicked away Chloe’s hands.

She’s struck by the question of what her father would’ve thought of his newest granddaughter. He’d love her; Chloe didn’t doubt that for a second. But if he knew Rory was an angel, would he still accept her? Would he be able to handle it or would he refuse to believe it and deny the truth no matter how many times Chloe tried to tell him?

Maybe she never would’ve told him the truth. From talking to Rory, it sounded like Penelope didn’t know about Rory’s wings. Aside from the people who were already aware of the celestial world today, only Trixie had been told the truth. Chloe didn’t think Dan even knew about angels in the future which was a strange thought. She’d never had Trixie keep a secret from him before. Although, she supposed if she was going to make such a request, it would be to hide her angel daughter’s true nature.

But Chloe wanted to believe she would’ve told her father. At some point, one day. And maybe he would be shocked and a little confused, but ultimately, he would’ve accepted it. He wouldn’t have cast them out. If anything, her father probably would’ve skewed the other way and become so overprotective he’d push to keep Rory hidden away so no one could hurt her. The idea was tempting. Chloe was certainly scared by the pressure to keep an angel child safe. She didn’t want to think about what might happen if the wrong person realized who Rory really was. Lucifer never seemed to care if anyone believed he was truly the Devil or not, but Rory was just a baby. She couldn’t protect herself the same way Lucifer could. So yes, Chloe couldn’t deny the temptation to hide Rory away, but her desire for Rory to have a normal life was stronger than her fears. She wanted Rory to have the freedom to walk around in the world and participate in it. Other angels did it all the time. Rory should be able to blend in, too, or maybe she’d grow into some other angel powers that could help her avoid unwanted scrutiny. Invisibility, for one, would be handy if she ever hit a stage where she struggled to control her wings.

(Then again, invisibility in the hands of a child with both Chloe’s and Lucifer’s genes seemed like a recipe for trouble. How many times had Chloe caught Trixie sneaking around for a slice of chocolate cake or another Uber ride across the city? And that was without angel powers to worry about.)

“No, I’m smart, Mommy,” Rory said, still giggling from the tickle attack.

“Yes, you are. You’re very smart.”

“Yes, so tell Daddy.”

Lucifer threw up his hands. “What did I do?”

Chloe just smiled and told Rory, “I think you already proved that. You did a really good job explaining to Daddy about bad birthdays.”

“Oh, I know all about them. I’m an expert which is why you should always take me with you.”

She said this as an innocent toddler brag, but still Chloe’s heart stuttered. Was Rory so familiar with the concept of ‘bad birthdays’ because of her grandfather? Or did Lucifer have a death anniversary that they marked in the future, too? Because if Lucifer’s assumption was right, that all of this — Rory not knowing who he was, Chloe owning his ring, even Trixie owning his car — was because he had died in the future, then of course, Chloe would do everything she could to pass his memory along to Rory. Of course, she would mark the day he disappeared from their lives with stories and pictures and anything else she could come up with so Rory would still have a connection to him even if she could never meet him.

But she didn’t want it to be necessary.

Lucifer continued talking to Rory. “Yes, your sister believes she’s an expert on all matters, too. Yet, we saw how that turned out with the cars — ah. There’s the snarky oldest, now.”

The back door opened, and Trixie hopped inside the car, all smiles. “That was awesome!”

“Your test?” Chloe asked. She helped Trixie maneuver her backpack out of the way without hitting Rory.

“Test?” Trixie said .”Oh, yeah. Multiple choice. Super easy. I meant when you came in with me and told Mr. Cooke I’d be leaving early. The rest of my class was so jealous. We should do that every morning!”

“I’m sure you would love that, but this is for special occasions only,” Chloe said. “I still want you to go to school regularly.”

“I know,” Trixie said with a sigh. Then, her sneaky smile crept back out. “But since today is a special occasion, that means we can get ice cream now, right?”

Rory gave a loud gasp and her eyes widened in shock. Voice barely a whisper, she said, “Mommy.”

Chloe couldn’t help but laugh at her expression. “You didn’t know we were getting ice cream, today?”

“Mommy!” Rory repeated, now squirming in her seat with excitement.

Trixie leaned between the front seats to address Lucifer. “Do you know the story behind why we get ice cream on Grandpa’s anniversary?”

“There’s a story behind ice cream?” Lucifer asked.

“Not a very good one,” Chloe replied. “It’s pretty dull.”

“No, it’s not.” Trixie turned back to Lucifer and explained, “One time, Mommy and Nana were fighting, and Grandpa came home, took one look around, and said, ‘We’re getting ice cream.’ And then he took Mom out for ice cream before it was even lunch time.”

While Chloe found it entertaining to hear some of her own phrasing repeated back in Trixie’s recitation, the story itself was as simple and uneventful as she’d warned. And yet, Lucifer grinned wide with glee as if the tale dripped with sordid scandal.

He asked her, “What were you and Penelope fighting about?”

Chloe chuckled. “Honestly, I don’t even remember. I think I was about… fourteen at the time, so it could’ve been about anything. I just remember being absolutely infuriated at her, and then my father came home after being out on a case all night, and I thought he was going to be angry we were fighting again. But he didn’t comment on the fight at all. He just took me out for a sundae.”

“In the morning,” Trixie repeated. “And now, we get ice cream before lunch, too. It’s a tradition.”

“Yes,” Chloe rolled her eyes, “a very long-running tradition dating all the way back to three years ago when I first remembered the anecdote.”

“Right.” Trixie nodded. “Like I said, it’s an important tradition to honor Grandpa.”

“Unfortunately, ice cream is going to have to wait another couple of hours.”

“No!” Rory strained against her car seat straps. “Mommy, no!”

“Hey, it’s okay, baby. It’s okay,” Chloe reassured her. “We’re still getting ice cream, but no one sells it this early, so we’re going to visit the cemetery first.” (Lucifer snickered to himself, and she shot him a glare.)

“No, I fixed that already. I want ice cream,” Rory whined.

“I promise, we will still get ice cream. We just have to wait a little bit.”

“Don’t worry,” Trixie said. “I won’t let her forget.”

Rory stopped squirming and stuck her hand out with her pinky finger raised. Trixie caught on quicker than Chloe did and shook her Rory’s finger with her own. “Pinky promise.” Then, Rory leaned forward and demanded a promise from Chloe.

“Pinky promise,” Chloe agreed.

Lucifer looked back at Trixie. “I think we’ve finally discovered the infant’s favorite dessert.”

Trixie nodded. “Ice cream is a pretty good favorite.”

“It’s so good!” Rory said and then dramatically flopped back in her seat to stare forlornly out the window.

Chloe grinned as she restarted the car. This was exactly why she always chose to honor this day this way. Others would probably disagree with her — her mother certainly did. Penelope preferred to celebrate John’s birthday and did her best to stay busy when the day he died came back around. Conventions, events, weekend getaway with friends — whatever she could schedule so she didn’t have to think about it. It had taken Chloe years to understand that her mother wasn’t being disrespectful or even actively ignoring the anniversary. She just didn’t want to drown in the grief. That part, Chloe could relate to. She already missed her father every day in a million little ways. She didn’t want an entire day spent wallowing or feeling so unbearably pissed off that his life had been stolen from him. But she also still wanted to think about her father, and this, what she had right here in the car and what she shared every year with Trixie and, before that, Dan — this was how she wanted to spend the anniversary. Being surrounded by family, letting herself feel sad, but also remembering the good times. She wanted the smiling and laughing and even listening to the kids be more excited about ice cream than anything else because it was a relief to hear it. Grief hadn’t touched her daughters yet, and Chloe needed that reminder of the light when today would otherwise be far too dark.

Lucifer hung back when they reached the cemetery and Chloe walked the girls over to John Decker’s grave. This part wasn’t for him. Honoring a kind and supportive father? Not his area of expertise, not with his own Father being, well… Him.

Lucifer raised his eyes to the sky, not to look for his own Father, but for Chloe’s. He was certain her father was up there. He never forgot a face, and John Decker was not a resident of Hell which only left one place for him to be. Lucifer wondered if his and Chloe’s fathers had met up there. Had God bothered to introduce Himself? Did John know his daughter had been created for the Devil?

“Either way, I’m sure you don’t like me very much,” Lucifer said. “But don’t let that color your feelings towards your granddaughter. Whatever she inherited from me, it’s not her fault.”

That vicious flash of anger yesterday when she’d bitten him still lurked in the back of his mind. It begged the question, just how much of his Devil side had Rory inherited? She had his wings, she had powers, though the nature of them was all her own —but those were angelic traits. Had she inherited more that remained hidden by virtue of her age? Which of his other traits might emerge as she grew older? If she got angry enough, would her own Devil face reveal itself?

Lucifer shoved the idea away. No, Rory couldn’t have inherited his face. She was too innocent still, too good. Chloe’s traits were obviously stronger there. They were strong enough to keep their daughter mortal, after all. And even if Rory had inherited some of his less than ideal traits, Chloe would be able to protect their daughter from them. There was already a night and day difference in Rory’s mood between yesterday and today. Chloe’s presence had kept the fussing to a minimum. So far, there’d been no outbursts, no biting, no lashing out. Rory had been bright and cheerful and charming all morning.

Their daughter helped Chloe set up the flowers they’d brought next to the headstone and then smiled up at her. She even looked like Chloe today. She looked like Chloe everyday once you looked past her brown eyes and dark hair.

The ladies shared stories at the headstone. Lucifer stayed one row back and tried not to eavesdrop. But sometimes the children got too loud or excited in their tales, and the words drifted over to him. It sounded like they were sharing mundane stuff. Silly, meaningless little stories that they probably would’ve rambled to their grandfather if he’d been alive for them to visit whenever they’d like.

Twisting his ring around his finger, Lucifer turned and paced another row of graves away. At least if he died, he wouldn’t be buried in a place like this. Amenadiel would never allow the Devil’s body to be so easy to find. He’d bury it in a far more remote spot than this, and it would remain unmarked. Just like they’d done with Uriel.

That was assuming there even was a body to bury. Perhaps, he’d be so thoroughly destroyed in the future, no trace of him would be left. Only whatever piece of him existed inside Rory’s DNA.

A tiny cannon ball collided with his knee. Lucifer looked down to see Rory standing beside him, gripping the leg of his trousers. Instantly, he shoved aside his dark thoughts about death — and then, marveled that had been his instinct. What do you know? Parental bluffing like he’d seen Chloe do a hundred times. Apparently, he was now capable of it too.

“Have you finished already?” he asked, voice remaining even and light. Yet something still prompted Rory to fully wrap her arms around his knees and bury her face against him.

“What is it?” Lucifer untangled himself enough to squat down to Rory’s level. “What’s wrong?”

Rory stared off sadly into the distance. “I didn’t fix this part.”

“What do you mean?”

“I got lost in the Silver City, and I didn’t see Grandpa.”

Ah. This again. Rory had spoken a few times about the Silver City and Heaven. He supposed it made sense she would bring them up again today.

“You’ve never been to the Silver City,” Lucifer said. “Not unless your uncle’s taken you… Has he taken you up there? Do you two fly together?” He only just realized there was a strong possibility they had. Amenadiel would be the only full-blooded angel in Rory’s life in the future. All of her training would have to come from him, then, and oh, didn’t that make Lucifer’s blood boil.

Rory broke into an offended pout. “No, we have to be a whole hand first, and Charlie doesn’t count.”

“Charlie?” Lucifer puzzled out her toddler speak. “Is that how old he is, a whole hand?”

“Yes, but it doesn’t count,” Rory emphasized. “It only counts when I’m a whole hand, and then Uncle Meni will take us flying.”

“When you’re a whole hand,” Lucifer murmured. There was the confirmation their original prediction was right, then. Charlie would be born later this year or early next year. The angelic cousins were two years apart. Only a little bit of time in the context of a cousin rivalry. A long, long time in the context of a beloved sister moving out.

“I’m sorry, little imp,” Lucifer said. “But even if you did fly up to the Silver City, I’m afraid angels can’t fix death. Once your Aunt Azrael has escorted them, they can’t come back.”

“Not sometimes,” Rory said, stretching out her words in the way she always did when she didn’t want to admit she was wrong. Then, she huffed and pressed herself against his shoulder without arguing the matter further.

A couple of minutes later, Chloe walked over, as well. Lucifer straightened and shot a questioning glance to where Trixie still lingered by herself.

“What’s the Urchin doing?”

“Oh, she always takes a few minutes to talk privately with her grandfather,” Chloe said. “I know he can’t actually hear her or anything, but it still probably helps her to get to share some thoughts out loud without Mom listening over her shoulder.”

Lucifer frowned. “But he can hear her.”

Chloe faced him, sharply. “What?”

“Yes, all messages reach Heaven. Did you really not know this?” Lucifer said. “Technically, I believe they’d reach Hell too, except no one’s listening. Everyone down there is too caught up in their own guilt to hear anything else.”

He trailed off when he noticed tears welling up in her eyes.

“Not that your father is in Hell, Detective,” he said, quickly. “I’m sorry if I implied he was, but he’s not. Your father is definitely in Heaven. Must be a Decker thing.” He tried a smile, but Chloe’s tears had grown large enough to slip free and she shook her head. “What—“

She hugged him. Buried her face into his chest and squeezed him tight. For a second, Lucifer didn’t know why. In most cases, hugging and crying were opposites — but then, he remembered they’d been here before. Last year, after she had caught her father’s real murderer and he’d told her that he imagined her father must be proud of her, Chloe had both cried and hugged him that day, too.

Apparently, he had said the right thing again. Surprising because, again, kind and supportive fathers were not his forte. But he was glad for any opportunity to make Chloe happy, and if he could do it on a day like today, all the better.

He held her until her grip relaxed into something less desperate and she recovered her voice enough to whisper, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he murmured into her hair.

A persistent little toddler clawed at his side.

“You wait your turn. I’m hugging your mother.”

Chloe laughed and pulled back, wiping her eyes. “You do not like being left out, do you?” she said as she scooped up Rory.

“No,” Rory said with a pout. Chloe chuckled again and kissed her cheek.

Trixie returned to them. “So, ice cream, now?” Then, she spotted the tear stains on Chloe’s face. “Oh… do you need to talk to Grandpa some more?”

Chloe shook her head and kissed Trixie, too. “No monkey, it’s okay.” She smiled at Lucifer. “Grandpa’s already heard everything.”

Chapter Text

After two weeks of binging, partying, and fucking anyone who so much as glanced at her, Maze woke up with a hangover the size of God’s dick, unsure of where she was.

Oh, right. She’d crashed in Chloe’s room in a drunken attempt to piss off her roomie which was a stupid plan in the cold light of 2:15 pm. Chloe hadn’t been home to bitch about the mess for a month.

Because she was fucking Lucifer. Or living with him, but they had a kid together now so the fucking was coming. Just like Linda and Amenadiel were fucking now because apparently they liked the idea of a baby brat dictating every aspect of their lives so much they needed one of their own! Because everyone had lost their fucking minds! They were all pairing up (stupid), creating families (gross), and happily cutting Maze out like she had never mattered at all.

Not that she cared. As she ordered coffee to be delivered and stripped her clothes off during the walk from Chloe’s room to her own, she realized how deep those words went. She didn’t care. At all. About anything. Let LA burn or drown in the ocean, whichever was more likely, as long as it purged every human and angel in this boring-ass place. Maze was officially through with it. She was so sick of waiting around like some well-heeled lap dog. She was a demon. She tortured humans and pummeled angels…. But when the human wasn’t fazed by torture and the angel wouldn’t fight back, then what was the fucking point?

She let the shower dump ice cold water over her head and tried to remember if she still had any spiked brownies left. The hangover wasn’t doing it for her anymore. It was time to get high again. Not that a high had helped yesterday, or the day before that. Lucifer might be able to drown out the bullshit with drinking and orgies and endless, mindless fun, but even when he’d included her in the chaotic revelry, Maze had always had a secondary task: watch out for Lucifer. Keep her guard up where he didn’t and protect him from the dangers he refused to see or care about.

He’d been shoving her out of that job ever since he met Chloe, and then she’d let herself be distracted by Linda and Amenadiel and all their crap. She’d slipped. She’d forgotten her purpose. That’s why she felt so lost and tossed aside: she’d tossed herself aside.

If Lucifer was focused entirely on a baby angel then that widened his blind spot even more. Who knew what kind of threats he’d missed? Hadn’t one of his siblings just fought him over that baby? Did he forget some asshole calling themselves the Sinnerman had managed to kidnap him?

Maze shut off the shower, eyes now clear and sharp. Lucifer had dropped the ball on the Sinnerman search, but she wouldn’t. She’d track the fucker down, and then someone, at least, would remember how much he needed her.

“And after I finally lured her out of the bathroom cabinets with her cursed puppy cartoon, she decided she was a dog and spent the entire afternoon barking,” Lucifer recounted. “The Paw Patrol dogs speak English, but when I pointed that out, the infant switched to growling at me.”

“Okay, I get the picture. It was a bad day,” Chloe said. Rory had been off from the moment she woke up. All through breakfast, she’d been clingy and quiet — so quiet, Chloe had checked for a fever before heading off to work. “Has she started having a runny nose or coughing?”

“She isn’t sick,” Lucifer insisted. “She’s simply ignoring me. Trust me, she has plenty of energy to run around and do whatever she wants — oh, look!” He stopped his pacing and stooped over to pick up something from the floor. When he turned around, he held out a tiny, white feather in his hand. “Now, she’s leaving feathers lying around. Rory! You have to tell us when you lose a feather. You can’t just leave them for anyone to find.”

Chloe glanced over at Rory who continued to play with her toys. They’d allowed her to have her wings out since Trixie was staying with Dan tonight, and she held them curled around some of her dolls in a cozy embrace as she threw the dolls a dinner party. For the toddler who loved tackling and stabbing her dolls, this kind of play was oddly calm.

“Rory!”

And Lucifer seemed determined to disturb that calm. Chloe touched his arm before he could shout again. “Hey, talk to me instead.”

“It came from her wings.”

“I know, but she needs both of us to enforce the rules if she’s going to learn. So explain it to me. What do we need to tell her about feathers?”

“To not leave them lying around.”

“Okay, why?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes and huffed, “Have you regressed to be three years old as well, asking why, why, why?”

She didn’t dignify that with an answer, and Lucifer’s shoulders sagged. Heavily, he sat down on the couch.

“What’s the problem with feathers?” Chloe asked again. “That someone will use them to figure out she’s an angel?” The feather Lucifer held was so small, it could’ve been shed from a down pillow. It would take some pretty wild leaps in logic for someone to see it and think ‘angel’.

Lucifer said, “Divinity can drive people mad, make them obsessive. And Dad forbid someone with a paper cut picks it up. Suddenly the cut’s healed, and they think they’ve found a miracle cure!”

“A miracle cure?”

“She’s stubborn, but she’s tiny,” Lucifer continued. “She can’t defend herself the same way I can.”

“Okay. Okay, I will help you keep a closer eye on her when she has her wings out.” Chloe sat down beside him. Shoving aside the ‘miracle cure’ remark for the moment, she asked a different question. “Is it normal for her to shed feathers?”

“How should I know what’s normal? There’s never been a baby angel before.”

Okay then, that was still too many questions, and Lucifer was far too moody to answer them. Chloe could understand that. Parenting was just like that some days.

“Sorry,” Lucifer sighed.

“It’s fine.”

He shook his head. “The bloody feather isn’t even the problem.”

Chloe waited for him to elaborate. Lucifer stayed silent for a long while, but then, staring straight ahead, he said, “She doesn’t want to be here.”

Chloe chewed on her lip. “The penthouse?”

“Here,” Lucifer emphasized. “She wants to go home.”

Her heart sank. Home meant the future. It didn’t mean her place. Rory had stopped asking about going back to the apartment back in that first week. But she hadn’t asked about the future either, had she? Rory still hadn’t realized she’d time travelled.

“She said that?” Chloe asked.

“She’s distant and pulling away. What else could it mean?”

“That she didn’t sleep well last night. Or she’s coming down with something and isn’t showing symptoms yet.” But even as Chloe said it, she didn’t believe it. Lucifer was right. She just didn’t want him to be. She might have advocated originally for Rory to return to her own time, but… weeks had passed since then. Rory had adjusted to the past. She still asked where her cousin was at times, but otherwise she was fine.

Except Lucifer said she wasn’t fine. He was home with her every day. At this point, he recognized her moods quicker than Chloe did. If he said Rory wanted to return to her own time, then she trusted him.

“How would we even send her back, though?” Chloe asked quietly, eyes focused on her daughter. “We still don’t know how time travel works — unless you’ve learned something.”

“No. But we know the year.”

“Sure. It’s sometime after 2023 if Trixie can drive.”

“It’s 2024.”

“Or later.”

“It’s 2024,” Lucifer repeated. “Trixie can drive and is beginning to look at colleges.”

“Rory said that?” He nodded. “Okay, but she doesn’t graduate until ‘26. That’s still a big range.”

“It’s the summer of 2024.”

His tone was final, as if he’d peered into the future and saw the date himself. Chloe struggled to understand. It was March in 2018. Summer of 2024 was six years — six and a half years — from now. How could someone suddenly appear six and a half years in the past as simply and easily as if they’d walked in from another room, but then be trapped there?

“Could your mother help?”

Lucifer gave her a bewildered frown. “What does my mother have to do with this?”

“You said she was in another universe.”

“She is.”

“So, if she’s powerful enough to cross universes,” Chloe asked, “then could she travel through time?”

Lucifer’s frown didn’t fade. “No. It wasn’t her power—“ He stopped and shook his head. “Anyway, that was a one way trip. My mother is stuck in that universe permanently. There’s no coming back.”

“What about another angel? There’s really no one else that can time travel?”

“It’s just Rory.”

Chloe continued to push. “Then, explain how your powers work.”

“You’ve seen how my power works.”

“I mean in general, how do angel powers work? Is there a trigger? Do they run off your emotions?”

“Emotions?” Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. They just… they just work. I don’t know.”

“How do you not know?”

“Because my Father isn’t exactly known for explaining Himself. He and my mother created angels, they gave us each unique powers, and then they didn’t explain a damn thing.”

“So, you have no idea how your powers work or why God thought it was acceptable to give our three year old the ability to travel backwards in time? Perfect.” Chloe swallowed back her frustration so she wouldn’t shout and upset Rory. This whole situation was shifting from overwhelming to infuriatingly annoying. They needed to help their daughter, but they couldn’t. They didn’t have the right knowledge or skills and they didn’t know where to go to obtain them. Out loud, she added, “We don’t even know if she can travel forwards through time. What if this was a one-way trip like your mother?”

Lucifer’s expression grew distant. Slowly, he said, “Or maybe she didn’t travel at all.”

“She did. We know she’s from the future,” Chloe said.

“But maybe we’re wrong about her power.” Lucifer twisted around to look at Rory playing. “She inherited my wings, so why would her power be different from mine? Unless she doesn’t have powers at all. She’s only half-angel, a mortal. What if she wasn’t the one who time travelled? What if someone else brought her here?”

“… Like your Father?”

“He’s the only one who could do it,” Lucifer said. “But why would He?”

Chloe remembered when he was blaming his Father out of denial. They’d known so little at the time. They didn’t even know Rory was from a different time. All they knew was that Rory was Lucifer’s daughter and he tried denying even that. He’d pointed to God instead. Chloe still didn’t buy Lucifer’s original arguments that God had made Rory to screw with him, especially not now that she knew Rory was her daughter too. But what if the time travel was God’s fault? What if He had been the one to bring her here? Rory wouldn’t be a lost little girl with powers too big for her to handle then, she’d be….

A pawn. It would make Rory a pawn in whatever game God had been playing since the beginning of time — assuming God was even playing this like a game. Chloe was working to recontextualize everything Lucifer had told her over the years as the literal truth and not a metaphor, but two things stood out in any context: Lucifer’s Father was ruthless and a jackass. But was God ruthlessly pursuing some master plan or was He simply reacting in the moment on a whim? Either way, what could a three year old possibly have done to warrant God’s punishment of yanking her out of time? Or was the punishment intended for Lucifer or even herself?

She supposed she should be grateful Rory was sent to the past and not Hell like God had sent His wife and son off to. She didn’t feel anything like gratitude, though. She only felt pissed.

“Can God hear prayers?”

Lucifer gave her a double-take. “What?”

“Prayers. It’s how people are supposed to talk to God, but does He actually hear them? Are prayers real?”

“Of course, they’re real. The question isn’t if He can hear them, but if he’ll deign to respond — and no, He won’t. He hasn’t responded to prayers in millenia.”

Undeterred, Chloe said, “Well, He’s going to hear mine.” Then, she closed her eyes. She wasn’t really sure how to start a prayer. It had been decades since the sporadic Sunday School lessons her grandparents took her to, and she hadn’t exactly been an attentive student. Clearing her mind seemed like the right place to start, though. Concentration seemed important if she wanted God to hear her.

Lucifer, however, wouldn’t stop talking.

“Hear what? Dad doesn’t care.”

“It’s His granddaughter at stake,” Chloe said.

“And He isn’t going to help, especially if He dumped her here in the first place.”

Chloe’s eyes flew open. “He owes us. He owes you. After everything your Father has done to you, the absolutely least He can do now is to help our daughter get home.”

Lucifer stared at her. “Oh, you’re serious. You’re really going to pray to Him.” Before Chloe could say anything in her defense, he smiled. “Do you want to use the balcony?”

“The balcony?”

“It’s better for shouting at the top of your lungs — and don’t you dare hold back because it’s God. You need to shout like you mean it. Curse Him! If you’re stumped for what to call him, I have some suggestions. Try—“

She clamped her hand over his mouth before Lucifer could list off, what she was sure were, colorful phrases within earshot of their toddler daughter who loved to repeat everything she heard.

Hey, fuckface!

Okay…. Not exactly how she’d intended to start off this prayer, but she could blame Lucifer for that.

If you had anything to do with bringing Rory to the past, then you damn well better fix it. You’re supposed to be all-powerful, so do something to help for once instead of hurting your family members.

Lucifer pushed away her hand. “Say you’ll shoot His balls off. We can melt down one of Maze’s blades to make it a more viable threat. Oh! No, say you hope He loses His powers and then steps on a Lego.”

Laughter snorted free, and Chloe opened her eyes again. “A Lego?”

“You can thank your oldest for that. I haven’t experienced it myself, but she swears it’s one of the worst pains imaginable.”

Chloe shook her head, at herself more than at him. “Okay, you didn’t have to bring up Legos. I already knew the praying idea was stupid.”

“What? No, it’s brilliant!” Lucifer said. “I’d love to hear you yell at my Father. Let’s go right now.”

He tugged on her wrist, intending to stand up, but his efforts were blocked by a tiny, little person now standing in front of the couch.

“Oh, hello.”

Her wings curled around her front, Rory peered at them over the top like a Kilroy doodle. “You’re pretty.”

“And you’re highly skilled at stating the obvious,” Lucifer said.

Forgoing her typical ‘thank you’ in reply, Rory unfurled her wings enough for her to climb onto the couch. Chloe tensed. She wasn’t sure how Rory would turn around to sit once she climbed up, but she also wasn’t sure how to help when Rory’s wings were out.

“Careful, monkey.”

She had a brief moment of panic when one of Rory’s wings bent backwards in half as she twisted herself around — but Rory didn’t cry out. Chloe glanced over at Lucifer, and while his raised brow showed more shades of concern than amusement, he didn’t interfere either.

Finally, Rory sat facing forward and snuggled up between Chloe and Lucifer. She pulled her wings back around to wrap in front of her. It reminded Chloe of Rory’s first night with them, when she tucked herself into a sobbing ball beneath her wings. There were no signs of tears now. Rory even wore a smile as she pulled her knees up to her chest. But if she curled up beneath her wings to comfort herself, then there must be something she was trying to soothe away tonight. Something like homesickness.

“Can we watch TV?” Rory asked.

“We can watch TV.” Chloe nodded and matched her daughter’s smile. “What do you want to watch?”

Beside her, Lucifer muttered, “Please don’t say Paw Patrol.”

“Fringe!” Rory declared.

Lucifer huffed. “Are you kidding me? That was your master plan: torture me with the chipper, cartoon dogs all day so I’ll let you watch Fringe again?”

Their daughter turned an impish grin up at him. “Yes.”

Chloe snorted, because no. Rory had not masterminded anything. She was just a toddler with ever-changing whims — but she sure knew how to play things up for maximum mischief.

Lucifer said, “We hate Walter now, remember? He experimented on Olivia when she was a child. Made her special against her will.”

Before Rory could shift her calm request into a tantrum, Chloe spoke up. “You also said Walter was playing God multiple times.”

“Yes, exactly! At least someone’s paying attention.”

“So,” Chloe continued, “if he’s a stand-in for God, then maybe the show will give us some tips for dealing with your Father.”

She stared straight-faced at Lucifer. He stared back in betrayal.

“That isn’t how it works!”

“Mmm, okay,” Chloe said. “I’ll be sure to remind you of that the next you time you project your life onto our murder case.”

He narrowed his eyes, but Rory interrupted with a not-so-gentle kick to his thigh.

“Fringe, Daddy! Mommy said yes.”

“She did not say the word yes,” Lucifer argued. Then, he sighed. “But she did take your side in this debate, so fine. I guess we’re watching Fringe.”

“Don’t say that like it’s my fault. You should’ve never let her watch it in the first place. And you,” she looked down at Rory, “don’t kick people to get your way. You have to ask if you want something.”

“Please Daddy, can we watch Fringe?”

Lucifer had already fetched the remote and was turning on the TV. “Will you be patient enough to scroll through all the endless streaming menus?”

“No.”

“Figures.” Lucifer located the episode they had left off at and settled back on the couch beside Rory. “When Walter turns out to be the villain and blows up that cow you love so much, don’t come crying to me.”

“Moo cow blows up?” Rory asked, excitedly.

He looked at Chloe. “You can’t blame me for this. She arrived here this obsessed with gore.”

“Squishy gore!”

Chloe chuckled and gave Lucifer a cheeky smirk. “No, but I’m going to blame you anyway.”

Three Fringe episodes, dinner, a bath, and multiple bedtime stories later, Rory was tucked into bed and fast asleep. She’d kept her wings out for most of the evening, so long that Chloe wondered if she needed to tell Rory to put them away. But the second she said it was bath time, Rory slipped the wings away like they’d never been there at all. That still perplexed her: how the wings just disappeared. She’d tried to ask Lucifer how wings could come and go without damaging clothing, and he’d given her a confused look.

“Why would they poke holes in her shirt?”

“… Because they’re wings.”

“Right. Wings. Not a werewolf with a tail.” Then, he’d shaken his head and walked away to fetch Rory’s pajamas.

So fine, she was still confused over every ‘basic’ angel thing — but Chloe had grown used to feeling her stomach drop out from under her. Instead of letting the fear spiral into something overwhelming, she rolled with it. After all, she’d encountered plenty of questions and problems she wasn’t prepared for while raising Trixie. Angel problems were different, more surreal, but facing them required the same two steps: take a deep breath and do the best she could.

So when Chloe retired to bed herself later, it wasn’t fear of being a bad mother that kept her lying awake for hours. It wasn’t even worry over how they could return Rory to the future, although that’s all her mind looped back to over and over again. There was something else keeping her too wired to sleep. But since Chloe couldn’t identify what it was, her mind presented her with every other worry of the day.

At two am, Chloe slipped out of bed. Maybe a walk would help her fall asleep. Or a drink of water, sitting on the balcony — the penthouse offered plenty of options. She would just be careful not to wake up Lucifer since his bedroom didn’t have any doors.

First, she paced down to Trixie’s room and checked it over, making sure her daughter hadn’t left anything important behind before going to Dan’s and that the TV and lights were all off. Trixie didn’t always remember to turn things off before leaving the room.

But everything was in its place and shut down for the night. Chloe headed to the kitchen next. She was still debating if she wanted a drink or a snack or neither when a swirling movement caught her eye. She stopped. There on the floor was another feather. Her steps had sent it wafting down the hall. Recalling Lucifer’s rant earlier, Chloe bent down and picked it up. The tiny little feather still didn’t look like much. It didn’t scream ‘angel’ even when she knew it came from an angel’s wings. It looked normal. No, not normal… terrestrial? It didn’t look heavenly or divine or like something that would drive someone to obsession, but maybe Chloe was already too close to the celestial world to notice. Maybe an outsider would see it differently.

Lucifer had also mentioned healing. It was just divinity people could become obsessed with. He’d said angel feathers could heal — and then promptly dropped the subject like it was as common and mundane as wings not physically tearing through shirts.

Chloe twirled the feather between her fingers. When Lucifer had brought up healing, he’d used a paper cut as an example, but she wondered what could actually be healed by an angel feather. Was it only injuries? Illnesses? Were there limitations or could anything be healed as long as the person wasn’t dead?

There had to be limitations. Most of Lucifer’s siblings seemed to stick to Heaven and rarely came to Earth. But even rare visits over the entire history of humanity added up to a lot of trips. If angel feathers could heal anything, there would be a lot more stories of miraculous recoveries. More desperate people seeking out angels, and more swindlers taking advantage of that desperation.

Maybe the feather had to be shed naturally to work. Maybe the angel needed a personal connection to the person that needed healing. That would certainly cut down on the number of miracles. There was still a lot she didn’t know, but by the sounds of it, only Lucifer and Amenadiel had spent enough time on Earth to form connections with humans.

Chloe’s stomach suddenly dropped and her head spun as a memory resurfaced. A memory she tried so hard to never think about. There was before, and there was after. That was it. The event itself didn’t matter because she’d survived. She’d survived it….

With a miracle.

When Professor Carlisle poisoned her last year, there wasn’t supposed to be a cure. He boasted about it, in fact. He kept the formulas only in his own head. He never wrote them down, never told anyone, and the poisons were designed to kill faster than it would take doctors to work out the antidote for themselves. Chloe should’ve died last year.

But she hadn’t.

“It was all Lucifer,” Dan had said after she woke up in the hospital. “He managed to track down the formula. I didn’t ask questions.”

She’d assumed the same thing Dan had, that Lucifer had used illegal means to obtain the formula. And she’d accepted that without question because she was so relieved to be alive. But Lucifer shouldn’t have been able to locate the formula. No amount of money or threats could’ve provided an antidote that only existed in a dead man’s head. But using an angel feather to heal her… that was crazy too. Impossible.

Wasn’t it impossible?

Chloe stared at the feather for another second before she marched off down the hall. Faint light bled through the balcony doors and into the living room, but up in the bedroom, Lucifer’s bed was drenched in shadows. Chloe could only make out his outline amongst the covers. He looked asleep.

“Lucifer.”

No reply. Louder, she repeated herself.

“Lucifer!”

She shoved his shoulder, and finally he stirred — but it was only to bury his head under a pillow. Chloe shook him again.

“Did you heal me with an angel feather?”

“Go away,” he mumbled.

“Lucifer, is that how you healed me?” She yanked his pillow away when he didn’t answer, and he added curses to his mumblings. He rolled back over to face her.

“What are you doing?”

“Last year,” Chloe said, “when Carlisle poisoned me, how did you manage to save me?”

Lucifer stared — or possibly fell back asleep for a moment. Then, he said in a confused voice, “Carlisle is dead.”

“But I’m not.”

“What?”

“So, how did you do it?” Chloe pushed. “What did you do to cure me?”

Lucifer sat up and searched his bed. “Where is a bloody clock in this place?” The light from his phone screen suddenly shined in his face, and he winced. “Fuck! Fuck… off….” The light dimmed. “Detective, why are we talking about this at two in the morning?”

“I need to know how you cured me.”

“From what?”

“The poison! Carlisle’s designer poisons. They didn’t have antidotes.”

Tiredly, Lucifer rubbed his hands over his face. “There was an antidote. I tracked it down.”

Chloe shook her head. “No, because Carlisle never wrote down the formulas.”

“He does when I tell him to.”

Whatever that meant. “Look, I didn’t ask questions at the time, but I’m asking now. What happened?”

“I already told you at the time, I got the antidote.”

“And was that antidote an angel feather?” Chloe asked. “I won’t be angry. I just need to know the truth.”

“The truth?” Lucifer’s voice rose. His phone screen was still on, and in the half light, she could see his tiredness hardening into a glare. “You’re not listening, Detective. You were cured with the antidote. End of story.”

“You’re dodging my question so you don’t have to tell me the full truth.”

“I’m not —“ Lucifer cut himself off with an exasperated laugh. “What is this? It’s the middle of the bloody night. Why are we even talking about this?”

“Because you brought it up.”

“I did not!”

“No, you just said angel feathers can heal people and then expected me to not ask follow-up questions,” Chloe said. “Just like I can’t ask questions about my daughter’s wings and how they work.”

“What?”

“I know she’s not a werewolf, Lucifer!”

Lucifer, once again, only answered her with a long stare. Then, he shook his head. “Right. Never knew you were prone to sleep-walking, but that’s clearly the only explanation for this. So good night, Detective. And hopefully, you will make more sense in the morning.”

He laid back down to sleep, but Chloe ripped away his sheets.

“Fucking hell! This is a worse wake-up than Amenadiel gives me.” Lucifer sat back up. “What do you need to know? What magic words do I have to say so you’ll let me go back to sleep?”

Chloe hugged her arms over her chest to brace herself for the answer. “Yes or no, did you use an angel feather to save me from the poisoning last year?”

“Using what feather?” Lucifer said. “I didn’t have my wings last year. Amenadiel still doesn’t have his wings. Two angels and not a feather between us. So no, that’s not what saved you. You were cured with the antidote like I said.”

But… but that was impossible. Both explanations were impossible, but the feather made the most sense. She hadn’t known about angels last year, but now she did. Now, a celestial miracle was a more logical explanation than Lucifer finding a formula that had never been shared with anyone.

“How?” Chloe asked. “How could you have gotten the antidote?”

“From Carlisle. I asked him for the antidote, and he gave me the formula.”

“No, Carlisle was already dead. He killed himself in front of me before I even knew I was poisoned.”

“Yes,” Lucifer snapped. “Carlisle’s dead, and I’m the Devil. You do the math.”

Chloe stared at him. Her mind couldn’t process what he was saying — or not saying — but her body could. Her lungs stopped breathing. Her muscles tightened, like not moving could protect her from the truth. But there wasn’t a truth she needed protecting from because Lucifer was still dancing around it. Still holding something back that he didn’t want her to know. That he’d gone to Hell to talk to Carlisle? Why would he need to hide that when she knew he was the Devil now?

Lucifer didn’t have his wings last year. Was that the big secret? Surely, an angel must have multiple ways to reach Hell, even without wings…. But there was only one Lucifer would fight so hard to hide from her.

“You died?” The words stuck to the roof of her mouth and came out rough. Jagged. Lucifer had said something to her in the hospital after she was cured. She’d forgotten about it in the hurt over his absence that followed. She’d overanalyzed every other sentence he’d said to her in that hospital room, but this one was deemed irrelevant and had been tossed aside.

“You didn’t die after all. That makes one of us.”

“You did, didn’t you?” Chloe said. “You died and found Carlisle in Hell and then… and then you came back to life somehow.” He’d come back to life after Malcolm shot him too. Maybe this was just something angels could do: die and come back to life. No big deal. But the dizzying unreality of it made Chloe’s head swim. Her hands curled so tightly around her arms, she could feel her fingernails dig into her skin. The prickling pain was the only thing that kept her upright.

Lucifer wouldn’t look at her. “If this is the part where you lecture me for commandeering a defibrillator, you’ll have to say it to my unconscious body. I’m going back to sleep.”

She hugged him. She dropped on the bed beside him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and hugged him. Because this was a big deal. Travelling to Hell was inconceivable enough, but dying to get there. Literally needing to die in order to save her, that… Chloe had no idea what to say to that.

“I’m sorry I was ever scared of you,” were the words that slipped out.

Lucifer held himself very still beneath her arms. She buried her face into his neck and hugged him tighter. There were a thousand other things she should tell him too — thank you, to start — but tears burned in her eyes and nothing that she could say felt big enough to capture what she felt.

He hadn’t worn a shirt to sleep in. So when her hand slipped down between his shoulder blades, she only touched bare skin. Head still reeling from tonight’s revelations, it took her an extra moment to catch what she’d done.

Chloe jolted back out of the hug. “I’m sorry!”

Lucifer frowned. “For what?”

“Your scars… I didn’t mean to. I know you don’t want anyone to touch them.”

His frown deepened. “What scars? I don’t have— oh….”

“I’m sorry,” Chloe repeated in a whisper.

Slowly, Lucifer shook his head. “Those scars are gone. They disappeared when my wings returned.”

The urge to turn him around and examine this for herself washed over her. She might have followed through on it if there had been more light in the room. Those scars had haunted her long after she glimpsed them. It was strange to think they could just… disappear.

But her hand had felt only smooth skin when she’d hugged him, and Lucifer didn’t lie. His wings had replaced his scars. And Chloe still didn’t know the why behind this, but she was beginning to put the pieces together.

Because Lucifer was both the Devil and an angel. Because even as the Devil, he was a good man. He cared and he fought for the ones he cared about, and she was so damn lucky to have him as her partner. It had taken a miracle to cure her last year, but not the one she thought. The miracle was simply Lucifer.