Chapter Text
Lucifer viciously stabs the call button for the elevator with his long index finger, simultaneously swearing in at least ten different languages.
Most of what Dan hears is hissing as he paces back and forth. His hands hold the handle of his service weapon so hard he feels the grip rubbing his palm raw. “We have to get up there, Lucifer,” he growls low and impatient.
Satan glares at the human next to him. “Indeed,” he rumbles in reply. Without even so much as a second glance, he bolts for the stairwell and his long legs take the steps three at a time. The space is too narrow for anything faster.
“Oh, great,” the detective fumes as he punches the elevator door in frustration. It opens with an infuriating chime and Dan steps inside. He inserts his key and pushes the button for the top floor. The doors slide shut and he paces anxiously while he radios his back-up. He feels his blood pressure rise as the car gains elevation.
Lucifer is faster and reaches the rooftop first. He slams open the door to find Winston Summerhill holding a gun on Detective Decker, who is held close with his arm around her throat.
“You don’t have to do this,” the club-owner approaches slowly with one hand out in a placating gesture.
Summerhill nods emphatically, “I do! She ruined everything! She ruined ME!” His grip grows tighter and Lucifer swallows heavily as Chloe’s face reddens from the pressure on her neck.
“Winston,” Lucifer keeps his tone low and soothing. “This isn’t really what you want, is it? Tell me, what is it that you desire?”
The well-dressed, middle-aged banker blinks as his eyes glaze slightly, “I was going to make a killing with that new drug until Dr. Baker lied and said it made things worse! I was going to buy an island!” He wrenches Chloe even closer, “Then this bitch figured it all out!”
It’s always about money, isn’t it? Lucifer thinks with disgust. Stupid humans.
“If it’s money you want, Winston,” The Devil cajoles, “I can help with that. I even happen to have an island. It’s yours if you let the detective go,” he offers.
Winston backs away, dragging Chloe with him closer to the edge of the building, “No! It’s too late!”
“Please, Winston,” Lucifer beseeches the man. “Let the detective go. She has a small child. Take me instead. You’ll get away. Just...”
In the next moment, a number of things happen at the same time.
The door behind Lucifer opens and Dan springs out with his gun drawn. “LAPD!” he bellows.
Startled, Lucifer turns to stop the detective, “Daniel, wait...”
Winston screams, “No!” and heaves Chloe over the edge of the rooftop.
Lucifer takes off at a dead run and Dan’s eyes bulge in their sockets at the sight of two enormous white wings erupting from the well-suited back just before said back swan dives off the building.
What......the......fu.......?
Without taking a moment to blink, Dan fires his Glock and Summerhill crumples to the ground, already dead before he lands in a heap.
Not stopping to think, Lucifer throws himself over the edge of the building and flaps his wings with as much force as he can muster in order to reach Chloe. She’s plummeting face-first so he is at least spared the agony of watching the horror on her face as she sees her death coming for her. He can’t even hear if she was screaming over the rush of wind past his ears.
Chloe feels her stomach lurch into her throat as she starts to fall and sucks in her breath as she watches the ground rushing to meet her. She’s heard stories that, when faced with certain death, a person’s perception of time slows. She closes her eyes and concentrates on her favorite moments. Marrying Dan, even though it didn’t work out. Meeting Trixie for the first time. Making detective.
Meeting Lucifer.
Tears wet her eyes as sorrow scours through her. No more momen...
She cries out in shock as a pair of strong arms wrap around her and yanks hard . Her ribs crack from the force of it and the air is ejected from her lungs. Her eyes close as she struggles to remain conscious. Her lunch continues its downward trajectory without her.
She’s jerked up again and realizes in shock that her downward plunge has stopped and she’s being slowly and laboriously hauled upward.
Another jerking movement then a breathless, “Bloody Hell” near her ear has her eyes opening wide.
“Lucifer?” she asks as she looks at the arms around her chest. Black Prada suit ending in starched-white cuffs? Check. Gleaming onyx cufflinks? Double-check.
Did he bungee jump...? She squirms around to get a look at exactly what is happening and she hears a soft grunt.
“Be still, Detective. I don’t wish to drop you,” he murmurs near her ear and she shivers at the soft scrape of his stubbled cheek.
Another jerking motion upward.
Are we....?
“Lucifer?” she asks weakly as she squeezes her eyes tight against the sight of the ground so far below them. Her head swims as she tries to remain conscious.
“I have you, darling,” he soothes. “Just...remain still.”
She nods groggily, “Okay, but what....how....?”
Another huff behind her but this one carries a bit of a chuckle, “We’re flying , Detective.”
“Flying? How...? ....jet-pack...?” her brow furrows in confusion.
An actual chuckle near her ear and another, more gentle, jerking motion upwards, “Wings, my dear. Father returned them to me in a most forcible manner. Thought I’d cut them off again, but it seems they may be useful after all.”
Chloe feels as if someone is squeezing all her limbs and a chill trickles down her spine. She sees the building getting closer and faintly hears someone calling her name.
Another huff behind her, “Dearie me, it seems I’ll have to explain myself to a number of your colleagues as well as Detective Douche.”
He carefully squeezes her more closely to his chest and she feels him nuzzle her hair, “Worth it.”