31. Thirty-One

Lucifer lands next to a fountain in Battery Park. 

It’s one of those fountains where the jets are buried in the ground. Geysers of water are shooting into the air in a spiral pattern. There are lights set into the stone too, and they’re bright enough to reach past the peaks of the water and illuminate the colored leaves on the tree branches stretched above them. In the distance past the fountain, the bay stretches out in inky endlessness until it meets the sky. It’s a beautiful spot. 

Chloe would love it. 

Lucifer’s chest aches. He doesn’t want to be here without her. He never wants to be anywhere without her ever again. He hates that he left her with his father. He knows she’s safe. His father does terrible things, but killing his prized creations isn’t one of them. Especially not Chloe, who he seems to like more than he likes his own offspring. 

Knowing that doesn’t ease Lucifer’s ache though. He was away from her—the real her—for so long, and then he came back and nearly lost her, and he just...he just wants to be with her. He wants to whisk her away and shut out the world and hold her until he forgets what it’s like not to be in her arms.

But he can’t. Not yet, anyway. He gave his word that he’d end this nightmare for her, and loathe as he is to agree with his father, he’s had enough rumblings of war for one evening too. Besides, he recognized that look in her eye. It’s the same look she gets before she asks someone to come into the station for questioning. She wants answers. She saw an opportunity to interrogate his father, and she wanted to take it, because that’s who she is. She wants an explanation. And he wants to give her what she wants. 

Even if it pains him.  

“Hello Lucifer.”

Lucifer smiles. He hasn’t heard that voice in a long time, but he’d know it anywhere. He turns around. 

Death stands a few yards away from him. She looks just like he remembers. She’s small—short and thin and delicate, though Lucifer knows better than to think she actually is delicate. She’s dressed casually and in all black, and it makes the paleness of her skin stand out even more in the moonlight. Her jet black hair is cut short. There are dark strands falling across her face, and when she flicks her head to push them back, he catches a glimpse of the marking beneath her right eye. 

“Hello darling,” he greets, tipping his head politely. 

Her smile deepens. “You look good for someone who recently went to Hell.”

“Yes, well, I’m afraid my stunning good looks are an albatross around my neck regardless of where I’ve been.”

Death laughs. It’s musical, and though it’s not nearly as beautiful as Chloe’s, it makes him smile. He studies the silver ankh hanging around her neck and is suddenly struck by the fact that she reminds him of Ms. Lopez. They’d get along famously, he’s sure, but he hopes they don’t meet for another several decades. 

“You look well too,” he observes. “I half expected you to show up as a geriatric man with a cane seeing as your day isn’t yet finished.”

She shakes her head as she walks toward him. “Actually, I chose to delay my tradition. I haven’t lived my day yet.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Something John Constantine said when he visited piqued my curiosity. I decided to investigate.” 

Lucifer smirks. “Was it about that horrific coat of his? Because I, too, wonder how often he launders it. My money’s on never.”

Death smiles as she stops next to him. “No.”

“Have they stopped making his brand of cigarettes? Nasty habit.”

“You smoked last time I saw you.”

“Things change.”

Death smiles knowingly at the fountain. “Apparently.”

Lucifer waits, but she doesn’t say anything. He sighs. “Well don’t keep me in suspense, darling. What was he on about this time?”

“You.”

Lucifer is so surprised he just stares at her.

She tilts her head up to look at him. “He said the Devil found his soulmate.”

Lucifer can’t seem to think of a response to that. Not because it isn’t true. Of course it’s true. Every bloody cliche in the book is true when it comes to Chloe. But he hadn’t expected Death, who’s never shown much of an interest in romance, to be intrigued by the fact that he fell in love. 

 She holds his gaze for a moment, still smiling, and then turns her attention back toward the fountain.  

“You know I’m a bit of an expert on souls,” she says, folding her arms over her chest. “I see them when they’re born. They’re clear and clean, a blank slate just waiting to be painted. And I see them at the end too, once they’re a mess of contradictions. Joy and grief. Pain and pleasure.” She casts a sideways look at him. “Darkness and light.”

Lucifer looks away from her and out across the bay in the distance. A sharp pain flares in his chest. The memory of his Hell loop is still fresh, and he can still hear the Detective’s voice warring with Chloe’s. The desire to unfurl his wings and fly back to the woman who saved his soul is nearly unbearable.

“I wanted to see it for myself,” Death says, unaware of how much he’s struggling to stay put. “So I watched you two.”

Shock snaps Lucifer’s head back in her direction. “You did what?”

“This week,” she clarifies. “From the moment my brother cast his dream until now. I had to sneak back in time to see what I’d missed prior to John’s arrival, of course. But I’ve seen it all. Right up until your Father asked me to meet you here.”

Lucifer gapes at her, trying to wrap his mind around what she’s saying, and then it sinks in and his temper flares. “And did you enjoy the show?”

She shakes her head and turns to face him. “Your anger is misplaced, Lucifer.”

“Is it?” he snaps. “Because it seems to me that everyone who could have stopped this nonsense was content to sit back and let it happen. My brother. My father. You. I’m so glad you all had such a marvelous time watching her suffer.”

“Is that your only takeaway from this week?” Death challenges. “That she suffered?”

Lucifer turns to face her. “I held her in my arms every night while she sobbed. What would you call it?” 

“And yet she told you she wouldn’t change a thing. If I summoned her here right now and asked her if she still felt that way, we both know she’d agree.”

“Leave her be,” Lucifer snarls. “She’s experienced enough supernatural interference to last several lifetimes.”

Death holds her hands up in surrender. Lucifer turns back toward the fountain with a huff of contempt. 

“We can’t truly understand joy without suffering, Lucifer,” Death says quietly. “Light isn’t light unless we first know the oppressive nature of darkness.”

“I’m not one of your souls in need of counseling,” Lucifer snaps. “So you can spare me the lecture about how the greatest costs lead to the greatest rewards. She’s innocent. More than that, she’s good. She never should have been asked to pay this price.”

“If she hadn’t been, then the two of you wouldn’t be what you are right now.”

Lucifer clenches his jaw.

“You pride yourself on being a truth teller, Lucifer. So tell the truth. You went through Hell for her. She did the same for you. It was horrible and difficult but it changed you both for the better, and it’s made your bond unbreakable.”

Lucifer clenches his fists. “What’s your point?”

“My point,” Death says, smiling kindly, “is that I know souls. Which means I know soulmates. And I’ve never seen two quite like you. I watched you because I wanted to know if John was right. And when I realized he was, I knew there was someone else who needed to see it too.”

Lucifer glances at her. “And who’s that?”

Death smiles. 

“Good evening, Lucifer,” a male voice says.

Lucifer stiffens. The desire to ignite his hands and let his light loose is so strong he can barely stifle it. He shoves his hands into his pockets and closes his eyes just long enough to pretend that Chloe is standing in front of him, her hand pressed against his heart as she whispers to him. 

Be light. 

He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes and turns away from Death. 

Dream is standing just a few yards away. Like his sister, his skin is pale white and his hair is jet black. Unlike her, though, he’s not wearing black. His faded jeans and gray t-shirt make him look almost human, but the silver and blue stars he has in place of eyes make it obvious he’s not. 

“Morpheus,” Lucifer greets as politely as he can.

Dream smirks. “I can feel your rage all the way over here.”

“You’re lucky you can’t feel my hand wrapped around your throat,” Lucifer snarls before he can stop himself.

Dream bristles. “You’re welcome to try.”

Lucifer opens his mouth but stops when Death puts her hand on his arm. He looks down at her, but it’s Dream who’s the focus of her reproachful look. 

“Don’t,” she tells her brother. “He has every right to be angry.”

Dream opens his mouth as if to argue, but seems to think better of it under the unwavering intensity of his sister’s gaze. He slides his hands into his pockets and looks at the ground like a chastised child. 

Lucifer tugs his arm out of Death’s grasp and straightens his jacket. She smiles at him, unfazed by his annoyance.

“I hear the two of you spent the week being voyeurs,” he says to Dream while fiddling with his cufflink. “I’m guessing that means I don’t have to tell you that my brother played you for a fool.”

Dream shakes his head. “I knew your brother had ulterior motives.”

“And you didn’t care?”

“Why should I care if I could still get what I wanted?” 

Lucifer sneers at him. “How machiavellian of you.” 

Dream tilts his head. “Isn’t that what you do when you grant favors? How are you and I any different?”

“I don’t punish those who don’t deserve it.”

“You’ve said that to me before.” 

“And I was right then too. If you wish to be a dictator, Morpheus, then stay in your realm and rule. Don’t come to earth and rob humans of their right to choose. Especially not my humans.”

Dream stares at him, and Lucifer stares back. He knows he needs to calm down and broach the subject of ending the dream, but he’s just so furious. He can’t stop thinking about how small Chloe felt in his arms in the middle of the night, sobbing because of nightmares that Dream caused. 

“You know, before you burst in to save the day, your human said something to your brother that intrigued me,” Dream says.

Lucifer shoots a look at Death. “What is it with the two of you and being intrigued by my girlfriend?”

Death smiles. “She’s rather extraordinary.”

“Of course she is,” Lucifer scoffs. “You’d have to be blind not to notice.”

Death’s smile deepens.

Lucifer turns back to Dream. “Well? Are you going to tell me what she said, or should I guess?”

“She said that if I truly loved Nada, I wouldn’t have tried to force her to do what I wanted. She said I didn’t love her because I was selfish.”

Lucifer fiddles with his cufflink. “She’s right.”

“You think you’re the authority on selflessness?” Dream asks incredulously. 

“No,” Lucifer replies, shaking his head. “I think Chloe is. If she says you’re selfish, then you are.”

“And you just blindly believe whatever she says?”

“I believe in her. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Dream stares at him for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed as if he’s trying to solve a puzzle. “I don’t understand,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “She’s your beloved. Your soulmate. You bowed to her without any hesitation. And yet when she offered to be immortal and stay with you forever, you refused. Why?”

Lucifer swallows around the sudden tightness of his throat. “Because sometimes there are more important things than getting what you want.” 

Dream looks stunned. 

Death smiles. 

Lucifer thinks of Chloe and their eventual, inevitable goodbye, and his chest aches with longing. 

Dream is the first to break the silence. He clears his throat and narrows his eyes at Lucifer. “I won’t apologize.”

“Of course you won’t,” Lucifer says. “But if you don’t—”

“I just did,” Dream cuts him off. “Your humans are no longer under my influence. The dream is gone.” 

Lucifer blinks at him, speechless in surprise. 

Dream straightens. “And I’m planning to pay your brother a visit, by the way. My expectation of his betrayal doesn’t excuse it.”

“Well if you’re looking for my permission to kick his ass, permission granted,” Lucifer says with a grin. “He’s on dad’s shit list at the moment too, so feel free to do your worst.”

Dream smiles darkly. “Worst is a good word for it.” He glances at his sister. “Will you...?”

She smiles. “I will.” 

Dream nods, and then he disappears without another word. 

Lucifer gazes at the now empty space in front of him. The fountain is gushing merrily behind him, but there’s a silence underneath the sound that seems to ring painfully in his ears. He’s been so desperate for this moment, so hyper-focused on making sure it became a reality, and now that it is, he’s not sure what to do with himself. He didn’t expect it to be this easy. He thought he’d have to make a deal or offer some favors. At the very least, he thought there’d be some yelling and a few punches thrown. Instead, the dream is gone and Dream is going to kick Michael’s ass.

“Well that went well,” he says lightly.

Death laughs. 

Lucifer frowns and adjusts his jacket. “I should check and make sure he’s actually done what he said.” He glances at Death. “No offense, of course.”

“None taken.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a cell phone. “I thought you might want to make a call, so I grabbed your phone for you on my way here.”

Lucifer blinks at her. “You did what?”

She just smiles. 

He snatches the phone out of her hand and unlocks it to check and make sure it’s his. It is. He knows because beneath the apps on the homescreen is a picture of Chloe at the precinct. She’s sitting at her desk, bent forward over some paperwork with an intense look of concentration on her face as she nibbles the end of her pen. She looks adorable. 

He misses her.  

“You needn’t worry, you know,” Death says softly. “The two of you will have far more time together than you realize.”

Her reassurance doesn’t soothe him. Chloe’s death might be a long way off, but it’s still coming. Someday, he’ll have to say goodbye again. And it will break him. 

He turns to face Death. “Thank you for your assistance. Obviously I’d have preferred for you not to spend the week watching my girlfriend and I screw our way across the United States, but perhaps it’s finally opened your eyes to the joys of sex.”

He leers at her for good measure, and Death shakes her head at him with a fond look. “You know I really enjoyed watching you exist without your mask for a change.”

Lucifer frowns. “What the bloody hell does that mean?”

“The way you are with her,” she clarifies. “You’re not afraid to be who you are.”

“You mean the Devil?”

She tilts her head. “Are you still the Devil?”

“Of course I’m still the Devil,” he scoffs. “My idiot brother might be the new King of Hell, but I’ll always be the Devil.”

Death studies him for a second, her expression pensive, and then she reaches up and presses her hand to his face. “Will you do me a favor?”

Lucifer smiles. “Careful, darling. It’s a dangerous thing to ask the Devil for a favor.”

She smiles, apparently unbothered by his warning. “Don’t think about who you’ve been. Think about who you want to spend the rest of eternity being.”

Lucifer has no idea what that means, but he knows her well enough to know that there’s no point in asking for an explanation. She won’t give him one. 

“Deal,” he murmurs. 

She smiles wider, her eyes alight with affection. “I’ll be paying your brother a visit as well, just so you know.”

Lucifer smirks. “Hopefully by now he’s found more suitable attire for Hell than those hideous turtlenecks. Please do let me know what he’s chosen. Unless, of course, he’s wearing a tank top, in which case I would rather die than be forced to imagine it.”

Death laughs, and then rises on her toes to brush a chaste kiss along his jaw. “Until we meet again, Lucifer,” she murmurs. “Send my regards to your father.”

She disappears before he can reply. 

Once again, he finds himself standing alone in the fountain-tinged silence of the park. He adjusts his jacket. He still can’t believe how easy that was. He wonders if his father knew it would be, and then rolls his eyes because of course his father knew. Omniscient git. 

Thinking of his father reminds him of Chloe. The desperate urge to be close to her wells up in his chest, and there’s nothing stopping him now. He could fly back across the river and have her in his arms in a matter of seconds. But he stays put instead, because he knows he hasn’t been gone long enough for her to get all her questions answered. 

He unlocks his phone instead of unfurling his wings, pulls up a familiar number in his contacts, and dials. 

“Luci,” John’s voice answers a moment later. “You all right, mate? Chloe okay?”

“Yes, we’re both fine,” Lucifer replies. “Is the urchin all right? Has there been any commotion?”

“I assume by commotion you mean have any more of your creepy ass demons shown up,” Zatanna’s voice cuts across the other end of the line. “And the answer’s no, they haven’t. Trixie’s sleeping and we’ve just been sitting here, waiting to hear from you.”

Lucifer smirks. “Sitting there, hm? I find that hard to believe. I suspect there’s been some flirting and perhaps a wandering hand or two.”

“Actually I was too busy kicking his ass in gin rummy to feel him up,” Zatanna says dryly.

“You were not,” John disputes, sounding offended. “I let you win.”

“You never let me win, John. You’re too competitive.”

“I nearly had you.”

“You’re full of shit.”

Lucifer grins. “Perhaps if you played naked gin rummy you might get a better showing out of him, Zee.”

“How the bloody hell do you play naked gin rummy?” John wonders. 

“Oh it’s delightful,” Lucifer says. “You start by—”

“Yeah, I don’t want to know that,” Zatanna cuts him off. “Did you take care of things with your brother, Lucifer? And Dream? Fill us in.”

“I’d be happy to,” Lucifer replies, turning away from the fountain. “But first, I’ve a favor to ask.”

Lucifer’s dad doesn’t say a word as he leads Chloe through the park and down toward the water. It’s not a tense silence, but it’s not a comfortable one either. It’s just...silence. 

She doesn’t know him very well, but she’s good enough at reading people to know that he’s not angry. His posture is relaxed, and his hands are folded casually behind his back. There’s an affable smile stretched across his lips. She’s pretty sure he knows that she’s watching him out of the corner of her eye, but he doesn’t remark on it. He just keeps smiling and walking in silence. 

He stops once they reach a lookout point at the very edge of the park. A hip-height fence marks the dropoff between the concrete beneath their feet and the water down below. To their right, the Brooklyn Bridge stretches out across the darkness of the river. The Manhattan skyline rises in the distance directly across from them. The skyscrapers are lit up proudly against the night sky, and the city seems to have a dome-like glow around it that stretches toward the heavens. It’s a gorgeous view. 

Chloe wishes Lucifer were here with her to see it. 

Her chest aches. They’ve been apart for two minutes and she already misses him. She’d roll her eyes at herself if she wasn’t so focused on trying not to tear up. She wonders if it’s going to be like this for a while once they get back to Los Angeles; if the road trip made them too accustomed to seeing each other every second of every day, and if his death traumatized them so much that they won’t want to be apart for more than a few minutes. 

She studies the skyline. A breeze blows over the water and catches her ponytail, brushing the ends of her hair against the back of her neck. Now that the adrenaline of the battle is gone, her body is screaming at her. Her joints ache. A dull headache pulses at her temples. Her split lip is throbbing, and so are her ribs where Michael’s foot briefly found a home, and she’s exhausted. 

John curls his fingers around the metal railing and clears his throat. Chloe forces herself out of her thoughts and looks at him. He’s gazing at the city in the distance the way a king might survey his kingdom, which makes sense considering he basically is. 

“If you’re holding your tongue because you’re concerned about offending me, you needn’t be,” he says into the silence. “You couldn’t possibly say anything I haven’t already heard from Lucifer at some point.”

Chloe wraps her hands around the railing too. “Yeah, I’ve heard him say a few things.”

“He called me a loathsome twatwaffle after you left family dinner.”

Chloe snorts out a shocked laugh and then smacks her hand over her mouth and turns to look at John with wide eyes. 

He’s smiling at her. “That was Linda’s reaction as well.”

Chloe can’t help it. She laughs again. 

John laughs too, rich and deep and somehow familiar. “There’s a reason he and Shakespeare were such good friends. My son has quite a way with words. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Chloe thinks about how Lucifer spent the last week quoting other people’s words to her because he couldn’t seem to find his own, and she lowers her hand from her mouth. 

“He struggles when he’s talking about how he feels. But we all do sometimes, I guess.”

John glances at her. “Are you struggling at the moment?”

Chloe presses her lips together and glances down at her hands. She studies the lines of her palms for a while, and then she wills them to light. They burst into flames. She wiggles her fingers, watching as the fire dances over her skin, and then looks up at John.

“Why can I do this?”

He smiles. “Because Lucifer can. Light is his. And he’s yours.”

Chloe shakes her head. “That’s not good enough.”

John lifts his eyebrows. 

Chloe considers extinguishing her hands but doesn’t because they remind her of Lucifer. When her hands are aflame, it makes her feel like he’s here with her even though he isn’t. 

“I don’t want God riddles,” she tells John. “I want to know how and why. Is it because I’m a miracle? Because that’s the only thing I can come up with, and it doesn’t make any sense. Being a miracle makes me immune to him. I’m supposed to be able to resist his powers, not take them. And yet somehow he managed to make me invulnerable, and now I’m on fire, and I want to know why.”

John smiles. “How much do you know about nuclear fusion?”

For a second, Chloe wonders if he’s mocking her. But the look on his face is earnest, and he seems genuinely curious, so she pushes the thought away.

“Uh...pretty much nothing.”

“It’s the scientific process that powers the sun and the stars.”

“Does it power Lucifer too?” She glances down at her hands. “And me, apparently?”

John tilts his head. “Not exactly. There are celestial elements to what the two of you can do.”

“So then why bring it up?”

“Because it’s the best analogy for what’s happening. You see, when two hydrogen atoms bond together, or fuse, they produce a new element. Helium.”

Chloe furrows her eyebrows. “Okay?”

“The new element is heavier, but the total mass is less than the sum of the initial two hydrogen atoms that formed it.”

Chloe’s frown deepens. “Wait, they combine but somehow weigh less?” 

“They have less mass,” John corrects. “But don’t let the connotation of the word less fool you. In losing mass, energy was gained. You see, in order for the two atoms to overcome electrostatic repulsion…” 

He must notice the blank look on her face, because he trails off. 

“I’m not going to make myself clear if I discuss this in terms of nuclear fusion, am I?” 

Chloe shakes her head. “I’m just a cop, John. Nuclear fusion is more than a little out of my depth.”

“I wouldn’t say you’re just anything Chloe,” he says kindly. He shoots a significant glance toward her still flaming hands. “Not ever, but certainly not now.”

Chloe feels suddenly self conscious. She extinguishes her hands and slides them into the back pockets of her jeans. 

John studies her for a second, still smiling kindly, and then he says, “Have you ever looked closely at a zipper?”

Chloe blinks at him. “What?”

“A zipper,” he repeats as if he genuinely thinks she didn’t hear him. 

Chloe feels her temper flare. “What the hell do zippers have to do with anything?” 

John smiles. “Perhaps a visual will help. Allow me to change.”

Chloe blinks, and suddenly he’s standing before her in a different colored sweater. It’s still knitted, but it’s a deep cranberry color instead of cream, and there’s a zipper on the front instead of buttons. 

John reaches for the two unzipped sides of his sweater. “A zipping mechanism has two separate tracks,” he says, holding the tracks out for her to see. “The dozens of little teeth on this track are just waiting to be joined with the teeth on this one.”

He glances up at her with a sudden look of concern. “Although, just to be clear, there’s nothing forcing them together.” 

He rubs the two edges of the zipper tracks over each other, and they make a soft clicking sound that echoes through the night air. 

“They can exist on their own just fine. They might complement each other perfectly, but nothing is forcing them to join. The two edges of the track have to decide that they’d like to take the journey of the zipper together.”

“The journey of the zipper?” Chloe repeats dryly. 

John nods. “Yes.” He reaches for the zipper slide, notches the edge of the free track into the space on the bottom of the slide, and then looks up at her again. “You see? There’s a conscious choice on the part of this zipper track to join the other track. To be together.”

Chloe stares at him. She thinks she knows what he’s trying to say, but…

“Except you’re the one who put it in the zipper slide,” she points out. “They wouldn’t get zipped together if there wasn’t an outside force putting them into the slide together.”

John looks crestfallen. “Yes, well, it’s not a perfect analogy because they’re inanimate. They don’t move the way hydrogen atoms do. But you understand what I’m saying, correct?”

There’s cautious hope in his eyes, and for a second all Chloe can think about is Lucifer standing in front of her at the UCLA Medical Center, also trying to communicate using an analogy, and the similarity between father and son makes her heart ache in a way she didn’t expect.

“Yeah,” she says, taking pity on him. “I get it. Free will.”

John beams. “Exactly. You’ve always had free will, Chloe. What you said to Amenadiel earlier is true. There’s always a choice.”

A million questions about free will surface in Chloe’s mind, but she pushes them away.

“So the zipper,” she prompts, gesturing at his sweater.

“Right,” John says, snapping to attention. “Back to the zipper.” 

He grabs the slide and slowly starts to pull it upward, his sweater zipping closed as he does. “When the two tracks are pushed together beneath the slide, their complementary edges weave together. They’re in close proximity and under pressure, and they come out the other side of that experience as a fused whole rather than two separate tracks.” 

Chloe points at the top of his sweater where the zipper tracks are still undone. “So this is me and Lucifer before.”

“Yes.”

She points at the zipped portion of his sweater down by his stomach. “And this is us now.” 

John smiles. “Precisely. When you fell in love, you became something new. Two separate entities that are so tightly fused together that they’ve become one thing instead of two. And that close bond allows you to share things. Light, for instance.”

Chloe frowns. “But how does it work? ”

His smile deepens into something affectionate. “My children self-actualize, Chloe. They believe something about themselves, and it becomes true. Amenadiel, for example. He once believed that because of mistakes he thought he made, he wasn’t worthy to return to the Silver City. He lost his wings as a result of his belief, and was therefore prevented from returning. The Devil face you’ve seen Lucifer wear isn’t a creation of mine. It’s a creation of his. That’s what he believed he was, and so it’s what he became.”

“He believes that’s who he is because of you,” Chloe says before she can stop herself. “You did that to him.”

“That’s the point I’m trying to make,” John says calmly. “The relationship Lucifer has with you is similar to the relationship he has with me.”

“Excuse me?” Chloe says. She turns more fully toward him and gestures between them. “You and I are nothing alike. I would never—”

“What I mean is that he loves you,” John cuts her off. “He seeks your approval, and what he thinks you believe about him influences what he believes about himself. Self-actualization is based on belief, Chloe. And there is nothing my son believes in more than you.”

That stops her short. All of a sudden, all she can think about is that diner parking lot and what she said to Lucifer before he finally had a breakthrough and summoned light.

I believe in you. 

“So Lucifer can light up because I believe in him?” she asks softly. 

John nods. “Yes. Your belief in him helps him to believe in himself. It helps him self-actualize.”

“So then I light up because…?” 

“Because he believes in you.”

She shakes her head. “But I’m not celestial. I’m just a human.”

“Why do you say just a human as if that makes you less than him? Being different doesn’t make you less than, Chloe. Nothing makes you less than unless you let it.”

Chloe swallows around a sudden tightness in her throat.

“I know the two of you thought it was desire that fueled your connection,” John continues. “You thought he lit up because you wanted him to, and he thought he made you bulletproof because he wanted you to be safe. It’s an understandable assumption, given that desire is his gift. And you’re not entirely wrong. Desire is part of belief. But so is love, and loyalty, and selflessness, and patience.”

She stares at him, trying to put the pieces together.

He smiles kindly. “It’s faith, Chloe. That’s what connects the two of you. That’s what gives you both power, whether literal or metaphorical. You believe in each other.”

Chloe’s ears are suddenly ringing. She reaches out and wraps a hand around the metal railing to steady herself. It feels cold beneath her palm. It’s not enough, though, and she turns more fully toward the fence and wraps her other hand around the railing too. She leans forward, gazing out across the water, and a memory of the first real conversation she ever had with Michael surfaces. 

I will never lose faith in me and him. 

She wonders if John heard her say that. She figures she might as well ask.

“Are you omniscient?” she asks, looking over at him. 

He nods. “Yes.”

The question of whether he heard her conversation with Michael fades, and it’s replaced by a sudden flash of irritation.

“So I was right earlier. You knew Michael was provoking Lucifer at dinner to set him up. You knew it was Lucifer who saved me at the cartel shootout. And you knew everything that was going to happen after that with Dream. You knew about all of this before it even happened.”

“Yes.”

“And the garden too,” she presses on, feeling anger start to boil in her blood. “You knew Michael manipulated Lucifer into sleeping with Eve and starting the rebellion. You knew Michael was behind it all and you punished Lucifer anyway.”

“Lucifer made a choice to rebel,” John says. “Choices have consequences.” 

Chloe straightens and turns to face him. “What about Michael’s consequences?”

“I think he faced those tonight, didn’t he? There are fates that are far worse than death.”

“Yeah, except his fate didn’t catch up with him until millennia after he started being a jerk.”

“Does justice become less meaningful if it’s delayed? Or is justice always justice?”

“This isn’t a philosophical debate, John,” she says, trying and failing to control her temper. “You could have stopped him before he did any of this. So why didn’t you?”

John gazes at her for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face, and then he gestures at the railing. Three glass vials filled with clear liquid appear out of thin air on the railing in front of him. 

Chloe blinks in surprise. She’s not sure where they came from or how they’re balanced so perfectly on a spherical rail, but decides there’s no point in asking. It’s all par for the course when you’re talking to the creator of the universe. 

“I’m omniscient,” he tells her. “That means I see every possibility and every outcome. Take these vials, for instance. I know what’s in every single one of them. I know that one contains water, and one contains vodka, and the other holds a poison that could kill you within seconds.”

“So?”

“So choose one.”

Dread washes over Chloe. She’s not sure why. If he wants her dead, she’ll die. There’s nothing she can do about it. She hesitates for a second, and then lifts her hand to obey. 

“Stop,” he orders. 

She freezes, her hand hovering in mid-air.

He smiles. “You were going to pick the one in the middle.”

Chloe shouldn’t be shocked he knew that. Of course he knew it. He’s God.  

But she’s still shocked. 

“I know which one you would’ve chosen in a dozen other circumstances too,” he adds, grabbing the middle vial and holding it out to her with a smile. 

She takes the vial with a frown. “What do you mean other circumstances?” 

“If I’d made these vials appear directly in front of you instead of directly in front of me, you would have chosen the one on the left rather than the one in the middle. If there were two instead of three, you would have chosen the one on the right. If there were four, you would have hesitated three seconds longer than you did just now, but you still would have chosen one of the vials in the middle. The left one, specifically.”

Chloe stares at him, stunned. 

He folds his hands in front of him. “I know all this because I see every possibility. I know how your past experiences, and your habits, and the circumstances around you will influence your decisions. But I also know every outcome of every choice you could possibly make.” He nods at the vial in her hand. “For instance, if you drink that, you’ll die.”

It takes every ounce of her self control not to fling the vial into the water. 

“I told you one of these vials contains poison,” John continues. “And yet you chose one anyway.”

“You asked me to.”

“But you could have refused. You didn’t. Now I’m telling you that what’s in your hand is poison. If you choose to drink it anyway, despite knowing all the facts, do I really have the right to stop you?”

“You’re joking, right? This would kill me.”

“Yes but only if you choose to drink it.”

She exhales a sharp breath. “Fine. But what if I didn’t choose it? What if someone else forced me to drink it? Would you intervene then? It wasn’t my choice.”

“But it was the choice of the person who forced you to drink it. If I give you the freedom to choose, I also need to give that freedom to everyone else. It’s unfair otherwise.” 

Chloe gapes at him. 

“I’m not saying I never intervene,” John says when she doesn’t respond. “Obviously I do because I did so tonight. But if I know that I can pull an antidote out of my pocket and that you’ll be fine in the end, then why would I rob you of the opportunity to make a choice? Why would I prevent Mazikeen from earning a soul, or Lucifer from conquering his guilt, or Michael from showing his true colors?”

Chloe narrows her eyes at him. “So you knew Michael would kill Lucifer and that he’d end up trapped in a Hell loop.”

“I also knew he would conquer his guilt and walk back out.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

“Chloe—” 

“All’s well that ends well isn’t going to cut it for me, John.” She shoves the vial into his chest. “Lucifer suffered. Trixie suffered.” 

He tilts his head as he takes the vial from her. “So if you were me, you would have intervened even if it would have changed the final result?”

“I would have done whatever it took to make sure my kid didn’t suffer. What parent wouldn’t do that?”

John shakes his head. “You’re either lying or you’re being a hypocrite.”

Chloe bristles. “Excuse me?”

“Do you remember teaching your daughter how to ride a bike?”

“What does that have to do with—”

He reaches out and touches her arm, and what feels like an electric shock jolts through her body. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s jarring enough that she closes her eyes. 

When she opens them again, she finds herself standing in a park in Los Angeles on a beautiful spring day. A few yards in front of her, she can see a younger version of Trixie decked out in a bright pink helmet and knee and elbow pads. She’s wheeling her bike toward a couple standing a foot to Chloe’s left on the sidewalk. Chloe glances at them, and then double takes when she realizes she’s staring at herself. 

She looks different. Less tired, more tan. Her hair is blonder and loose around her shoulders, and there’s a wedding ring on her finger. Dan is standing next to her. He looks younger too.

“You know if I let her go like she wants, she might crash,” Dan says quietly. 

Chloe watches herself nod. “I know. But she wants the training wheels off and we can’t hang onto the back of her bike forever, right? I mean, I don’t want her to fall, but she has to learn somehow.”

The edges of the world blur. Another jolt rockets through Chloe’s body, and she blinks and finds herself back in New York. 

“Do you understand?” John asks.

Chloe shakes her head. “Letting Trixie fall off her bike while she learned to ride isn’t the same thing as kicking her out of the only home she’s ever known. And it’s definitely not the same thing as letting her torture herself in a Hell loop.”

“Maybe not,” John replies. “But choosing not to teach your daughter how to ride a bike would have had far less dire consequences than choosing not to address the pride and guilt eating away at my most powerful son.”

Chloe exhales an annoyed breath and looks out over the water.

“I knew which vial Lucifer would choose,” John says. He sounds like he’s pleading for her to understand. “I knew he would rebel, just as he knew what the consequence of that decision would be. He wanted to be his own man, Chloe. To make his own choices and face the consequences, come what may. So I gave him what he wanted.”

“And what about all this?” Chloe demands, holding out her arms. “You think he wanted to hear everyone he loves tell him that he’s evil and dangerous? You think he wanted to die in my arms? This whole last week, that spell and everything it caused, none of it is what Lucifer wanted.”

“Lucifer isn’t my only child,” John says patiently. “Michael is also my son, and he’s free to make his own choices just as Lucifer is.”

“Even if those choices hurt everyone else?”

“Free will is a zero sum game. If the world was filled with perfect people, then free will would bring no suffering. But it’s not. It’s made of imperfect people who sometimes make the wrong choices, and those choices hurt other people. Now, I can either come to terms with the fact that giving creation the freedom of choice also brings suffering, or I can force you all to do what’s right and let you become slaves in the process. You tell me which world you would rather live in.”

“Look, I’m not you, okay?” Chloe says, fixing him with a glare. “I don’t know how to run a universe so I’m not going to tell you how to do it. But I am a parent, and I like to think I’m a pretty good one.”

“You are,” John says kindly. “Your daughter is a remarkable—” 

“So is your son,” Chloe cuts him off, her voice cracking through the air like a whip.

John blinks at her, taken aback. 

Chloe swallows around the sudden lump in her throat and brandishes her finger at him. “Your son is an extraordinary man. He’s generous, and loyal, and protective, and sweet. Nobody has ever loved me as well as he does. And if there’s a miracle in our relationship, it’s that. Because I have no idea where he learned it from. He sure as hell didn’t learn it from you.”

John looks wounded. “I gave him what he asked for, Chloe.”

“You gave him what he asked his god for,” Chloe corrects. “But you’re not just his god, John. You’re his dad. And all any kid wants from their dad is love.”

“I do love him. I’ve always—”

“Does he know that? Have you told him that? Shown him in a way that he understands? Because if you have, please, tell me when. I’ll gladly be wrong.”

John presses his lips together and says nothing. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Chloe says, folding her arms over her chest. 

John doesn’t reply. He looks out at the water and the city in the distance, and so does Chloe.

For a while, they just stand there in silence. Another breeze blows off the water and tousles Chloe’s ponytail. Her split lip throbs. Her head is killing her. If someone offered her a bottle of Advil right now, she’d probably swallow the whole thing. She’s so tired her arms and legs feel like they’re filled with sand. She doesn’t want to be here, arguing with God over how shitty of a father he’s been. She just wants to go home. 

John clears his throat and leans his elbows against the railing. Chloe glances in his direction, and then double-takes when she sees the look on his face. He looks...defeated. Confused and sad in a weary sort of way that makes her ache. 

Memories of all the times when she’s felt like a bad mom crash over her. Her first day back at work after Trixie was born. That time she missed a school awards assembly because she was testifying in court. Coming home with other people’s blood on her clothes and smelling like gunpowder. 

Leaving her daughter on a beach when she was under a spell. 

The ache in Chloe’s chest intensifies. She exhales a sigh, and then steps forward and leans her elbows on the railing next to John. He doesn’t look at her. She clears her throat and searches for the right words. 

“You know, when you’re a god, you can snap your fingers and create things and be done with them,” she finally says. “But parenting isn’t like that. We don’t just throw our kids out into the world and tell them to go make choices and live with the consequences. We’re supposed to help them. We’re supposed to teach them how to make the right ones.”

He turns his head to look at her. “And when they don’t?”

She lifts her shoulder in a shrug. “We keep loving them. I’m not saying there aren’t consequences for bad choices. I’m just saying that those consequences shouldn’t last for millennia. They shouldn’t make someone hate themselves. And they should never, ever separate you from the people you love. Because when we mess up, that’s when we need love the most.”   

John looks down at his hands and then smiles. “I suppose that’s why you’re here.”

Chloe frowns. “What do you mean?”

He looks up at her. “I messed up,” he says quietly. “And now you’re showing me love even though you have no reason to. Even though, in your eyes, I don’t deserve it.”

Chloe shakes her head. “Everybody deserves love, John.”

He gazes at her for a moment, and then he straightens. “You know Lucifer better than anyone.”

Chloe nods. “Yeah.” 

“So what would you recommend I do in an effort to mend things?”

“What do you think you should do?”

He shrugs at her helplessly. 

She sighs. She’d never tell Lucifer he’s anything like his dad. But sometimes—like right now—she can see the resemblance.

“Apologize, maybe?” she suggests.

John furrows his eyebrows. “Do you think that would have value to him?”

“I mean, I don’t think it’s going to magically fix anything. But it’s a good place to start.”

John nods. 

Chloe chews her bottom lip and studies him. “You know I’m not going to tell him to forgive you, right?”

John glances at her with a frown.

“I’m on his side. I’m always on his side. So if all this is building up to you asking me to put in a good word for you, you’re wasting your breath. I’m not your advocate. I’m his.” 

“I would never ask you to speak on my behalf, Chloe,” John says quietly, shaking his head. “You’re not a pawn. You’ve always been free to make your own choices.”

Chloe is opening her mouth to ask a clarifying question about her miracle status and her light when they’re interrupted.

“Father.”

Chloe and John straighten in unison and turn around. Amenadiel is standing a few feet away. Another angel is standing to his left. Chloe recognizes him as one of the first two angels who arrived on the battlefield after Amenadiel. She thinks Michael called him Raphael. He’s tall and broad-shouldered and solid muscle, and he cuts an imposing figure even standing next to Amenadiel. But when Chloe meets his gaze, he smiles shyly at her. 

“Chloe, allow me to introduce you to my son, Raphael,” John says, gesturing at the angel. 

Raphael steps forward and offers his hand. “I believe it’s customary in your culture to…” He glances over his shoulder at Amenadiel with a frown.

“Shake hands,” Amenadiel says with a smile. 

“Shake hands,” Raphael repeats, turning back to Chloe. He smiles at her. “It’s an honor to meet you, Chloe Decker.”

Chloe blinks at him, and at the huge hand he has outstretched between them, and then she puts her hand in his and shakes. “Yeah, uh...nice to meet you too.”

Raphael glances at his father. “May I…?”

John shakes his head. “That’s not my decision.”

Raphael nods and turns back to Chloe. “You seem to have sustained some injuries,” he says, nodding at her busted lip. “I would be happy to heal your wounds if you would give me your consent.”

Chloe stares at him. “You can...heal me?” 

“It’s his gift,” Amenadiel says. 

“You mean like Lucifer’s mojo?”

Amenadiel smiles. “Something like that.”

Chloe glances at Raphael. He smiles reassuringly. “It won’t hurt. I’m told it merely feels warm.”

Chloe thinks of Lucifer and how warm he’s always felt to her, and her chest aches from missing him. She wonders how he’d feel about his brother healing her. She can see him in her mind, rolling his eyes and muttering under his breath and maybe yanking her into the circle of his arm possessively afterward, but she knows he would agree. He wouldn't want her to be in pain if she doesn’t have to be.

“Yeah,” she says, swallowing around the lump in her throat. “Okay.” 

Raphael smiles broadly and then reaches his hand out toward her head. It’s not an aggressive movement, but she’s not prepared to be touched so she flinches away from him and ignites her hands.  

Raphael’s eyes widen. He looks down at her burning hands and then over at his father, but John just smiles at him. Chloe eyes the three celestials in front of her warily, her hands still aflame. 

“It’s all right, Chloe,” Amenadiel says in that low, soothing tone he’s so good at. 

Chloe doesn’t want to be reassured by him because she’s still mad that he ignored her prayers, but she can’t help it. There’s always been something about him that’s comforting. Usually, she finds it endearing. Right now, though, she just thinks it’s annoying.

He smiles at her like he knows what she’s thinking. “He won’t hurt you. He just needs to be touching you for it to work, that’s all.”

Chloe glances at John. He smiles at her but doesn’t offer any words of encouragement. She’s guessing he’s letting her decide without his interference. He seems to like doing that.

She takes a deep breath and wills the flames on her hands to disappear. “Sorry,” she mutters to Raphael.

He smiles. “It’s all right.” He holds up his hand. “I’m going to touch your forehead if that’s all right. I won’t touch you anywhere else, you have my word.”

Chloe swallows and nods. Raphael steps toward her and presses his massive palm against the center of her forehead. Chloe glances up at him. He leans closer, his eyes fixed on hers. 

“I restore your health and heal your wounds,” he murmurs. 

Warmth immediately spreads through Chloe’s body, starting in her head and then seeping downward. It’s different than the warmth she feels from Lucifer’s light. It’s sharper, more intense, though Amenadiel was right that it doesn’t hurt. The ache in her temples disappears, and then the throb in her bottom lip, followed by the dull but insistent pain pulsing in her ribs and throughout the rest of her body. She feels less weighed down all of a sudden. Less brittle. She’s still tired and she’s kind of hungry and there’s still a Lucifer-shaped hole in her heart, but nothing hurts anymore.

Raphael lowers his hand and then smiles. “How do you feel?”

Chloe smiles at him—a genuine smile this time—and says, “Much better. Thank you.”

There’s a woosh sound, and then Lucifer’s voice cuts through the night air. 

“I hope you asked for her consent before you did your mumbo jumbo.” 

Chloe snaps her head in the direction of Lucifer’s voice so fast she nearly gives herself whiplash. He’s standing a few feet away, fiddling with his cufflink and eyeing Raphael with suspicion. 

“I’d hate to have to light your hair on fire,” he says. His voice is light, but there’s a glint in his eye that makes it clear he’s not joking. “With that block of a head you’d look like humpty dumpty.”

“I asked for her permission,” Raphael confirms.

Lucifer rolls his shoulders and his wings disappear. “You better have,” he mutters. 

He finally shifts his attention to Chloe, and his gaze softens immediately. The corners of his mouth turn upward, and something inside Chloe clicks into place. 

“Lucifer,” she breathes. 

His smile deepens. “Hello, my love.”

She lunges forward and throws herself into his arms. He catches her with a surprised exhalation, and then a pleased laugh rumbles through his chest. She wonders if she should be embarrassed by her eagerness, but she’s not. She doesn’t care what anyone else thinks. How can she care when he’s here?

His arms tighten around her and he bends forward to bury his nose in her hair and inhale. She closes her eyes against the threat of tears. She probably smells like sweat and ash and death, but he keeps smelling her anyway and it makes her want to melt into a puddle.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

She nods into his chest. “I am now that you’re here.” 

She squeezes him—just to make sure he’s real, because she still isn’t over the fact that he died and resurrected and came back to her—and then she leans back.

“Are you okay?” she asks, lifting a hand to his face. She looks him over, but he doesn’t seem to have any injuries that he didn’t have before he left. She’s hoping that’s a good sign.

He cups her face in his hand and brushes his thumb over the place where her bottom lip had been split open. 

“I’m okay if you’re okay,” he murmurs with a smile. 

It’s sweet, but Chloe can’t stop staring at the cut above his eye and the darkening bruise on his jaw. 

She curls her fingers around his forearm. “You should let him heal you too.”

Lucifer glances past her at his brother, and she sees the suspicion darkening his eyes. “No.”

His voice is hard with resolve. Chloe chews her bottom lip. She wants to push him to change his mind because she doesn’t want him to be in pain. She knows that if she asked him to do it for her, he would. But she also knows what it would cost him to let one of his siblings help, regardless of the fact that they came to his aid tonight, and that’s a price she isn’t willing to ask him to pay. 

She brushes her fingertips lightly over the bruise on his jaw. “Does it hurt?”

“A little,” he admits.

She tips his chin back to see if he’s bruised on the underside of his jaw too. He’s not. She coasts her fingers down his neck and then presses her hand over his heart with a smile. 

“We can ice it later. I’ll nurse you back to health.”

“Will you now,” he purrs with a wicked grin.

She gives him a look. “That wasn’t an innuendo.” 

He ignores her warning and leans closer. “You know, now that you mention it, I’ve got the most horrible pain in my—”

She smacks her hand over his mouth. “Do not finish that sentence.”

He wiggles his eyebrows at her, but before she can chastise him, someone clears their throat. 

Chloe startles at the sound. She turns around, and immediately blushes when she realizes that John, Amenadiel, and Raphael just witnessed her and Lucifer’s entire exchange. Amenadiel and John are smiling. Raphael is too, but his head is tilted like a puppy who’s hearing a sound for the first time. He looks adorably confused for such a massive man.

Chloe clears her throat and tries to scoot a more respectable distance away from Lucifer, but he yanks her back to his side. She collides against his body with an oomph, and he drapes his arm possessively around her shoulders. She shoots him a look, but he ignores her. 

He fixes his gaze on his father. “Death sends her regards.”

“What did she say?” Chloe asks before John can respond. “Is she going to talk to Dream for us?”

“She already did,” Lucifer replies, looking down at her. “And so did I.” 

Chloe frowns at him. 

He drops his arm from around her shoulders and turns to face her. “The spell is gone. Everyone is back to their right minds. I had John and Zee check just to be sure. Everyone you love knows what’s real and what isn’t.”

For a second, all Chloe can do is stare at him. That terrible night in L.A. was only a week ago, but it’s felt like years. She’s wanted to hear him say those words so badly, been absolutely desperate for them, but now that she’s finally heard them, she’s afraid it’s just another dream. 

Tears prick her eyes, and she has to swallow twice around the lump in her throat before she can speak. 

“It’s over?” 

Lucifer nods. “Yes,” he whispers, lifting a hand to her face. “It’s over.”

Chloe can’t keep the tears at bay anymore. Her eyes flood, and a sob of relief catches in her throat. Lucifer gives her a look that’s filled with so much affection it makes her cry harder, and then he pulls her into his embrace. 

She buries herself in his arms and cries, celestial audience be damned. Nobody says a word or tries to interfere. Lucifer rubs his hand in a comforting pattern over her back. It’s the same thing he does every night when she wakes up from a nightmare, and the familiarity soothes her until she realizes that there won’t be any more nightmares. The dream is gone. They finally have their lives back, and everything is going to go back to normal.

The thought has barely sunk in before it’s devoured by another, far less joyful realization. The spell may be gone, but the damage it caused isn’t. Dream took her life and crumpled it like paper in his fist, and even if Death took it back and smoothed it out, the creases and wrinkles remain. 

She leans out of Lucifer’s embrace and tips her head back to look up at him. “How are we going to explain this to everyone?” 

He brushes the trails of tears from her cheeks and doesn’t say anything. Dread squeezes her lungs into breathlessness. 

She clutches his jacket. “Lucifer, what are we going to do? I mean, Linda and Dan might get it, and maybe Trixie, but Ella? My mom? Everyone at the LAPD? How are we going to fix this?”

Lucifer shakes his head. “I don’t know. But we’ll do it together, all right? Just like everything else.”

“Actually,” John says, “that won’t be necessary.”

Chloe turns to look at him with a confused frown. 

Next to her, Lucifer stiffens. “What the bloody hell does that mean?” 

John folds his hands in front of him. “The two of you have been through enough. And I don’t think it’s fair to ask you to continue to pay for Michael’s choices.”

A tiny flicker of hope sparks to life in Chloe’s chest. 

“That doesn’t answer the question,” Lucifer points out. 

“I altered the timeline and sent you back,” John replies. “You two will keep your memories of what transpired over the last week. So will Mazikeen, as she needs to remember she has a soul, and so will your friends John and Zatanna since you’ve tasked them with hunting down Circe. But as far as every other human is concerned, the spell never happened.”

Chloe gapes at him. “Wait a minute. You...you sent us back in time? ” She looks around, but her surroundings don’t appear any different. “Are we in the past right now?”

“I’ve paused everything for the time being,” John says with a smile. “But yes, we’re in the past.” 

“How far back did you send us?” Lucifer asks. 

“A week. Once I’m gone, the timeline will pick up at the exact moment when you texted Chloe and asked her to meet you at Lux for the evening. In Los Angeles, it was a few minutes after eight o’clock. Here, it’s just after eleven.”

Lucifer shakes his head. “And how are we supposed to explain our presence in New York?”

“Your family and friends are under the impression that you whisked Chloe off for an impromptu romantic getaway. Given your impulsive nature, no one will be surprised.” 

“Yes, but she’s not impulsive,” Lucifer says impatiently. “She has responsibilities. A job. A child.”

“I’ve taken care of those as well.” John looks at Chloe. “You aren’t expected back in L.A. until Tuesday afternoon. Trixie is with her father for the next few days, which I believe the two of you had previously agreed upon anyway, correct?”

Chloe nods numbly. 

“And your lieutenant was more than willing to give you the time off, given the number of vacation days you’ve accumulated and the fact that you recently busted the Fantasma cartel. The LAPD brass is quite pleased about that, by the way. I imagine there might be a medal headed your way in the near future.”

He smiles at her in a way that makes it clear that there’s no might about it. She’s going to get a medal. But Chloe doesn’t care if the LAPD brass is happy with her. She only cares about one thing. 

“So is Trixie okay?”

John nods. “She’s healthy and happy and safe. And excited to see what souvenirs you’ll bring back for her. Although, when Dan told her where you were going, she was a little disappointed she couldn’t come along.” He glances at Lucifer. “She is, as you know, very fond of Lucifer.”

Tears prick Chloe’s eyes all over again. “So she doesn’t remember the beach?”

“No,” John says gently. “The beach never happened for her. None of it did. The last time she saw you, it was when you dropped her off at her dad’s after her soccer game.”

A memory surfaces in Chloe’s mind. She’s standing outside Dan’s front door, handing him Trixie’s soccer bag and her unfinished bottle of Gatorade. Give me a kiss, monkey, she says, bending down, and Trixie wraps her arms around Chloe’s neck and gives her a peck on the cheek and says I love you. 

Chloe is crying again. Lucifer pulls her into his side. She leans into him and swipes at her tears. 

“There is one more thing,” John says. 

“Of course there is,” Lucifer mutters. “Do we turn back into pumpkins at midnight?”

John ignores the jab and meets Chloe’s gaze. “Your father asked me to pass along a message to you. He wants you to know that he loves you, and that he’s very proud of you.” 

He turns his gaze to Lucifer. “And he wanted me to tell you that you’ve earned his respect and admiration. He’s thankful that you love his daughter so well. And he’s looking forward to meeting you.”

The last sentence hits the air with the force of a bomb. Lucifer goes rigid next to Chloe. Chloe’s heart is suddenly pounding so hard that she’s afraid it might beat straight out of her chest. 

“But Lucifer can’t…” she starts. She doesn’t finish. 

John gazes intently at Lucifer. “The gates of the Silver City are open to you, my son. Your presence is not demanded or required. You are free to come and go as you please with no obligation.” He glances briefly at Chloe, and a knowing smile tugs at his lips. “I suspect we won’t be seeing you for many, many years. But when you do return…”

He trails off. He looks suddenly uncomfortable, nervous even, and Chloe realizes what he’s doing. He’s trying to take her advice. 

“There are things I’d like to say,” he says quietly. “And I’d like to listen, as well, if there are things you want to say. But I only wish to have those conversations if and when you’re ready. So until then…” 

He glances at Chloe again. She nods at him encouragingly.  

He clears his throat and lifts his chin. “I love you. And I’m proud of you.”

The words echo through the air. John looks sincere, though a little hesitant. Raphael and Amenadiel seem stunned. Lucifer, meanwhile, looks absolutely bulldozed. He leans heavily against Chloe with a soft exhale, and she wraps her arm around his waist and holds him tightly. 

John takes a step back. “I should be getting home. I’ve been away too long.” He smiles at Chloe. “Please tell Trixie that I hope I fulfilled her desire to her satisfaction.” 

It takes Chloe a second to realize that he’s talking about his retirement party, when Trixie asked him to let Lucifer stay with them forever. When it sinks in, her eyes flood. 

John’s smile widens. “I’m still working on her request for giraffes on Mars though.”

Chloe laughs despite her tears.

John looks at Lucifer. “I hope to see you soon.”

Lucifer just stares at him with his mouth open, apparently at a loss for words. Chloe holds him tighter. 

John doesn’t wait for a reply. He smiles, nods, and then disappears along with Raphael and Amenadiel. 

For a second, there’s nothing but silence and stillness and an eerie sense of calm. And then suddenly people blink into existence, talking and laughing and going about their Saturday night. Chloe stares at them, stunned at how surreal it all is. They have no idea that just a few seconds ago, God and an army of angels were on earth.

She looks up at Lucifer. His face is white as a sheet, and his eyes are glassy. She’s never seen him look this shell-shocked, and her heart aches. She can’t imagine how overwhelmed he must feel.

“Lucifer?” she whispers, pressing her hand against his chest. “You okay?”

He looks down at her. He blinks a few times, his gaze flickering over her face, and then he lifts his hands to her cheeks.

“We get forever,” he breathes in awe. 

The fact that he’s focused on that after everything he just heard steals the breath right out of Chloe’s lungs. Joy sparks in her chest, shimmering briefly before it explodes, and when she lunges forward to bury herself in his arms, it’s with the knowledge that she never, ever has to let him go.