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video | un: detdecker

Besides all this mumbo-jumbo about portals and the fact I've obviously lost my mind and am lying strapped to a hospital bed somewhere, I've got a few things I'd like to clear up—

[The blonde woman frowns deeply at the screen, brows drawn tightly together in displeasure.]

—namely, it's been told to me that we can't leave this place until they've scrounged up enough 'resources' to send us back, which seems oddly convenient. Does anyone know if there's been success with that yet? Has anyone been sent back home, or is that some nebulous 'someday' thing they're telling us? Second of all...

[Her hand comes up to gently cup a small gold locket hanging around her neck; a gift from the city to her, it seemed. Her mouth works for a moment, trying to find the words.]

Trixie, baby, if you can hear me, mommy's here and going to find you. I promise. Just sit tight, monkey.

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[He watched her brace herself, pay her full attention towards him and he felt that drop in his belly, that sickening lurch that this might not all work out like he hoped it would. But he'd made a deal, to her. To himself. He'd promised to tell her and he needed to follow through on that.]

I... agreed to tell you, yes. And I want to. I'm going to. I just... it feels like something is trying very hard to make it so I don't. I... hell. I don't know if it's me, one of my siblings... Dad. To be perfectly honest, Detective, as well as being afraid of scaring you off, I'm worried whatever it is might go to a more extreme length to stop it. To hurt you--

[It was one thing if whichever brat he was related to wanted to drag him off as a punishment, but he'd be plucked and flayed alive before he'd allow any member of his family to draw her into it. His Mum might have thought it was all bluster and show when he got riled up against her, but there was at least one sibling of his who knew just how far he was willing to go to protect Chloe.]

Hurt me? What're you talking about? ...Does this whole thing have to do with your family situation? The whole thing with your Dad's ex?

[Lucifer had always been a bit of a mystery to her, but he'd gotten even more vague in recent months. Talking about people that were against him or being overly worried about her after she got into an accident. Blaming murders on his mother or trying to divert her attention away from a case. Just odd little things that had never quite added up.]

I meant what I said on the beach, Lucifer. Scaring me off is the last thing you'll do.

[He sighed and moved to stand from where he'd seated himself. He needed to move. This wasn't like Linda. Linda, he was trying to prove a point. He'd been openly honest with her to a degree he hadn't been with Chloe; telling Linda everything in his life whereas he hid that from Chloe. He didn't lie, he just didn't want to go through her looking at him like she often did when he said something she didn't believe. Like with his wings. Even though she'd wound up doing as promised, he'd seen that 'uh huh' look. That disbelief. And that was what he saw every time he thought about telling her -- or worse.]

You say that, but they all do. Every one, before--

[Before he gives them indelible proof that has them sitting there all but wetting themselves. He still felt bad for what he'd put Linda through, more so now after his bloody Mother... But that look stayed with him. That terror was something he never wanted to see on Chloe's face. Not directed at him.

And yet, he'd promised.]

But yes, it does. Mum, Dad, the family... And I'm trying very hard to find a way to tell it right. It never comes out right.

It doesn't have to come out right. Just... talk to me. I'll listen.

[She kept her gaze on him with rapt attention as he got up to pace, tension and discomfort evident in every line of his body. He seemed anxious. Frightened, almost, though she couldn't think of what it could be that would have him so scared of just talking to her. What could he have possibly done, to be so frightened? She didn't like it. It wasn't the Lucifer Morningstar she was used to.]

Whatever's going on, I just want to understand. In any way I can.

That's what I'm afraid of. That you'll listen and finally understand. And that the truth is going to be too much for you.

[He paused where he was, across the room, back to the wall and his glass in his hand as he looked across all that space towards her.]

I'm... afraid of how you'll take it. You've asked for proof before. You almost believed me once. I mean, you did shoot me, but I had no idea that would do what it did. I didn't know, you see. How could I?

That's for me to decide, isn't it?

[Whatever happened, whatever's scared him so utterly or made him act so weird around her lately— the fact of the matter is that he can't make this choice for her, if he chose to tell her. She'd already told him where she stood. It was up to him whether to believe her or not.]

At this point, you either trust me or you don't, Lucifer. There's no changing that. But you're still not making any sense. What didn't you know?

Of course I trust you, Chloe. I trust you implicitly.

[That she might even think that had him realizing just how far he'd let this go. How he had to grow a pair, so to speak, and just... tell her.]

I didn't know... couldn't know, that you-- Well, I mean, even Amenadiel didn't know--

[Stop, Lucifer. He took a breath, looking down at his glass and downing the rest of the contents before deciding to take the plunge.]

About you. That you're His miracle. That's why nothing works right around you. Why you're immune to me. How you deviated from Uriel's pattern. It's you.

[And there's something else that she's never heard from him before: her name. Chloe. It sounds foreign to her ears, hearing it from his voice. Something alien but welcome all the same.

Still, she hung on to every word. And stared at him blankly, uncomprehending.]

Me.

[It still made no sense; none of it helped to clarify anything over the past few months, and yet he seemed to think it would... oh. A dawning kind of comprehension fell over her.]

'His'? As in... God? [A sigh slipped out, something akin to exasperation coloring her tone.] Are you really still on the whole 'I'm the Devil' thing?

[His shoulders slumped. No, not just his shoulders. His whole body sort of just slipped a little lower and he looked up at her with something almost pained in his expression.]

Why do you always insist on doing everything in the most complicated way possible. You're leaving me with... bitter options, Detective. Options I'd much rather not take with you. Can't you just... believe me?

[She wanted to believe him. She wanted a whole lot of things; for them to talk, to clear the air, to get rid of this uncomfortable tension that'd settled over them recently like a dark cloud. She wanted her partner back, the one who was a little off-color and completely inappropriate but no less trustworthy and willing to have her back. She didn't know what it was— whether he was really trying to sell this story or if he was unhinged enough to believe it himself, but hearing him ask her to just 'believe him' had something in her rising. Something tense, hot, something she'd done her best to keep hidden.]

I'm the one who's complicated? [An incredulous huff.] You're the one that skipped town without a single word after I almost died. You're the one that showed up with your stripper wife out of nowhere, and with no explanation might I add, as if everything was completely normal and fine. And that's not even counting all the other things—

[She clenched her jaw, shaking her head as she cut herself off.]

So while I'm so sorry to hear about your 'bitter options', you'll have to excuse me if I'm not feeling a whole lot of sympathy at the moment, Lucifer.

Exotic dancer.

[Said more out of habit than anything, Lucifer watching her get all... what? Angry? Was she angry with him? But he hadn't even done anything. Yet, anyway. But whatever it was, it seemed to have been pent up, waiting to bubble over. At him.

All the more reason why that tangle of nerves in his stomach twisted just a little more.]

It's... everything is complicated. I had very legitimate reasons for everything I did, but I don't know why you're feeling so... mad? I've done nothing but try to protect you from-

[Him? Yes, well, definitely him. Him and his family. His idiot brother. The other one that kept siding with the Mother that wanted to kill her. His Father... Hell. Where did he start with that one?]

From what, Lucifer? Protect me from what?

[Her words were still barbed and laced with irritation. He didn't know why she was mad? Seriously? She knew he could be obtuse, but she'd never considered him to be this dense.]

You keep saying you want to protect me, but how can you expect me to be safe when I don't have all the information? I don't need a protector. I need a partner. Which is what I thought we were, but you've been keeping me out of the loop.

[She wasn't the only one getting irritated and frustrated. He was trying. He thought this would be easier, but his recent attempt with Linda kept slipping to the forefront of his thoughts, painting her expression over Chloe's face and making it harder for him to keep speaking.]

From me. From my family. From sticky celestial fingers mucking up your life and making you feel things you likely don't want to because He made you. And I don't know why. If it was to thwart me. To end me. To just mess with my head in thinking I could f--

[Biting that off, he looked down at his empty glass, realizing he needed more than that small bit of liquor to get through this. He moved over to where he'd set the bottle down.]

You're not making any sense.

[And yet, despite her anger at him, she recognized that distress in him. Whatever this was, he deliberately believed it. There was no lie in him. And she wasn't sure if that made it better or worse.]

No one's trying to 'make' me do anything, Lucifer. No one's out to get you. You're okay. I'm okay.

No. No, I'm very much not okay.

[Not after what had happened before finding himself here. He'd thought he might be okay. That he might be able to share with her and take those steps forward she and he both seemed to want to. But then he'd been blindsided and woken up... well. He still wasn't entirely sure where.

And that all melted into now. He was still whole. Still had a part of himself back that he shouldn't. Still had no idea who had set that in motion. Still had no idea if that same someone hadn't been brought here as well.]

Someone has done something. I'm just not sure which someone. And if they're here... you might very well not be okay. I don't even know if it extends that far.

Alright, slow down.

[There was only so much she could do to follow this whole song and dance. Whatever happened obviously disturbed him greatly, and if she were to take a stab in the dark, she'd guess it happened between his phone call and... whatever brought them here.]

Someone's done what, exactly? You can't just drop me in the middle and expect me to know what you're talking about. Start from the beginning. What happened?

[And because he was clutching onto trying to save this in any fashion, he found himself saying:]

In the beginning, there was Light.

[Then he laughed, something short and bitter as he poured another drink.]

I'd very much like to find whoever gave me a knock and dragged me off before I could talk to you. This would all be so much easier if it had just happened at home.

What?!

[And now she looked at him incredulously, concern quickly replacing her anger as she stood up and went to approach him, as if she planned to search him for injuries.]

This isn't the time for games. Why didn't you tell me someone attacked you? Are you hurt—?

[And now she really was reaching for him, hands moving to touch him while he was turned to his drink.]

[He laughed. He couldn't help it. Something a little close to a sob before he tipped the drink into his mouth.]

Define 'hurt'. Oh, I'm not as bad off as I was when I got here, Detective, but that's not the worst insult of all.

[No, no... those big, white, feathery appendages made whole on him when he'd already lost them once. That was just a slap in the face. One he was still trying to figure out who'd managed it.]

What do you mean 'not as bad as when you got here'?

[She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat when she heard that almost-sob, a show of emotion she wasn't used to seeing from him. But since he didn't seem to protest her proximity, she let herself reach out and touch him fully now, gently resting a hand against his back.]

Hey. Come on. Talk to me. I want to help.

[And possibly shoot someone, depending on what he said.]

Someone... and I have my suspicions on who, gave them back, Detective. After I bloody well cut them off and burned them, they put them back.

[He felt her touch him, felt that ache that shivered through him, that desire to turn and just... hold her. He wanted to. Those few stolen moments flit through his head; on the beach, at the court, the soft touch of her hand on his face...]

I don't see how you can help. Not unless you want to cut them off again.

Gave what back—

[Her mind ran through all the possibilities, thinking of conversations and little moments of insight until she finally arrived at the only one that remotely made sense, feeling like she was grasping at an unraveling thread.]

—is this the whole thing about the wings? [A brief shake of her head.] Or the scars on your back?

[And it's then that she realizes where her hand is. Not quite at where his scars would be, but close enough. She keeps it there, not wanting to draw away but not knowing what would help him here.]

Ex scars, Detective. Ex. They're not there anymore. Two guesses why.

[He put the glass down more heavily than he intended, turning to her with a look that was somewhere between pained and angry.]

I made my choice and someone took that away from me. They gave them back. I can't for the life of me figure out why if not to try to force me back to where they think I belong. It's not bloody happening.

What? How's that even possible?

[She'd seen them. Large and raised, ropey flesh spanning over his back. But then he was looking at her, that anger in his eyes bright like fire.

She reached out to touch his shoulders.]

Calm down. You're not being forced anywhere, besides where we are now.

You don't believe me.

[Of course she didn't. She never did. Not about this, anyway. Well, this, he could prove. This he could show her without showing that last piece that he so very much wanted her to never see.

His hands moved to his jacket, unbuttoning it as he started to shrug out of it, tossing it onto the bed when it was off and working on his shirt.]

Yet. Who knows if this isn't just another part of whatever game they're playing? They could just be waiting to whisk me off again -- or you. They should never have brought you here.

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