Chapter Text
It takes Maze about two months to find them.
In her defense, looking for someone who is taken and looking for someone who is hiding in plain sight require two different approaches.
Also, they're in Canada.
As far as small towns go, this one seems to be better than most, but it still doesn’t make her want to stay any longer than absolutely necessary. How Chloe and Lucifer could’ve possibly ended up here, she has no idea.
There's a Bed and Breakfast and Maze waltzes right in; it's the best place to get information. And something nice to eat since she's starving.
Holding up her phone, she asks an elderly woman behind the counter if she's seen them or heard anything about them.
The woman frowns. "I have, honey, but their names aren't Chloe Decker and Lucifer Morningstar."
Maze frowns as well. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Why do you want to know?" the woman asks instead of answering.
Maze sighs. She hates it when humans answer questions with more questions. It's a wonder how they get anything done. "Because they're missing." Reaching into her back pocket, she slides the two missing person posters towards the woman. "And they're my friends," Maze adds. As long as neither of them hears about it, she's fine admitting it out loud.
The woman examines the posters closely. "Hmm," she says slowly, stretching the sound out. "I don't know what to tell you, honey, but the people you’re asking about are Sam Mitchell and Jane Darcy. Are you telling me they're using false identities? Are they criminals?" She looks extremely upset at the possibility, and Maze sighs again.
"No. Lady, it says missing, not wanted. They've been snatched, kidnapped. Where can I find them?"
"Well, Jane works here, but today's her day off. And Sam's a mechanic. Has a real gift for fixing things up. I swear he can do it with a look."
Maze grins, she doesn't doubt. There are all kinds of things he can make work unplugged. "Great. Thanks," she says, giving the woman her most pleasant and non-threatening smile. "Now, I'd like your finest, please. Extra large portion."
The woman, Matilda, directs her to a repair shop half-way across town, but it’s so small that Maze doesn’t even bother with her helmet.
She sees him when she pulls over.
In hindsight she probably should’ve worn the helmet because clearly something hit her in the head because there’s no way she’s seeing what she’s seeing.
There’s no way Lucifer bloody Morningstar would ever wear grease stained jean overalls and a white t-shirt. Also stained.
And he’s grinning. The kind of grin she doesn’t see often on him, and it’s never ever directed at Maze anyway. He grins and shakes hands with another man, then walks back inside the shop. He’s also wearing sneakers, and there is zero hair product in his hair, which means it curls.
Impulsively, Maze checks her head to be sure; alas there’s no sign of blood or any other injury. Maybe she'll visit an optometrist when she gets home, she must have caught bad eyesight from Linda. But first she needs to deal with this, whatever the hell this is.
Shaking her head, she gets off her bike and gives it a gentle tap before she follows Lucifer inside the shop.
“Hey, Lucifer,” she asks loudly, noting that it startles him. Weird. “The ‘80s called, they want that outfit back.”
He turns in the chair to face her, a terse smile on his face. “Excuse me?”
“You’re excused. What the hell?” She points at the equipment around her, all the tools and other stuff.
Lucifer’s face remains frozen in such confused bewilderment, it unsettles her. He’s the Devil, for crying out loud. “I think you’re mistaking me for someone else,” he says, then smiles. “I saw you on your bike outside. Is there a problem? Do you want me to take a look?”
Maze wonders if this is what robots will feel like in the future when they encounter a logic problem. Then she wonders why she thinks about future robots’ problems at all. For that, she’ll blame the kid. “Cut the crap, Lucifer. What happened? You and Decker disappeared without a word eight weeks ago. Do you have any idea what you put us through? I mean I wasn’t worried, but Trixie? Dan? Linda? Even Amenadiel was concerned.”
Lucifer stands up, takes a cautious step towards her. He doesn’t smile anymore. “I’m truly sorry,” he says, “but you are definitely mistaking me for someone else. My name isn’t Lucifer.” He huffs out a laugh. “Why would anyone name their child after the Devil? Though I believe it’s not illegal,“ he says in his smooth accent.
“What the fuck?” Maze says, barely resisting the urge to whack him to try and realign his brain. Clearly, something’s disconnected up there. Turning him off then on might just help.
He smiles, politeness personified. “My name is Sam. Sam Mitchell.”
Her gaze drops down to his hand as he gestures, and sure enough, his black ring is still there, so Maze can safely say she isn’t the crazy one between the two of them. The man in front of her is Lucifer, not the secret third twin no one bothered to inform her about.
“I’m Maze,” she offers, maybe this requires a different approach. There’s definitely something seriously wrong with him. Which also explains why they haven’t come home since no one seems to be holding them by force. “Nice to meet you.”
Lucifer narrows his eyes. Very old him suspicious. So whatever happened, it didn’t also turn him into a complete idiot. Pity. She could’ve used that to her advantage. “I think you should leave. You know, given that you don’t need my services. I hope you’ll find this Lucifer person.” Smiling politely, with no warmth that she saw in his expression earlier, he points to the exit.
Deciding not to push it, Maze nods and turns to walk away. At least she’s found him, physically unharmed if anything. That means Decker should be fine too. She needs to tell the kid.
Finding Decker, or Jane, apparently, isn’t hard in a town this small. Though Maze isn’t even looking.
She’s driving her bike around, getting the feel of the town in case she needs it later—never let it be said that Mazikeen Smith isn’t prepared for anything, well, anything ass kicking related—the speed is so low she can easily be outrun by a toddler, when she sees her.
Well, her and a dog.
Which is amazing. Not just because Maze kinda likes dogs, and this one is really cute, a shepherd of some kind, but it’s also a great opening, not that Maze needs one, thank you very much.
Parking her bike, Maze plasters her most charming smile on her face. “Excuse me,” she calls, watching Decker stop and look at her in confusion. She runs up to them and points at the dog. “She’s beautiful,” she says, guessing; the dog looks like a badass bitch, and Maze means it as the highest compliment. “She’s a shepherd, right?”
Chloe smiles. “Yes, a Belgian malinois. But don’t be fooled by her size, she’s still technically a puppy. Her name’s Tris. Short for Beatrice,” she says proudly, and Maze almost trips over her own feet. “She’s the bestest girl,” Decker continues, in that special dog owner voice, and the dog reacts to her name, the tail wiggling excitedly.
Maybe Maze is going crazy after all. She’ll call Linda today. “May I?” she asks instead.
“Sure, go ahead, she’s very friendly.”
Crouching, Maze offers her hands to Tris to sniff, and the dog focuses her attention on them. Apparently pleased, Tris allows Maze to pet her. Maybe her name is the result of Decker’s subconsciousness trying to tell her something, fighting to remember her real life, Maze thinks, then cringes. She hangs out with Linda too much. She will not be psychoanalyzing her former roommate, she’s a demon, not a shrink. Linda is gonna love it though.
“I’m Jane,” Decker says. “What’s your name? I haven’t seen you around.”
Looking up, Maze considers her options. “I’m just passing through. I’m a bounty hunter, actually.”
Decker’s face lights up with interest before she schools it. “I hope you’re not looking for anyone in our town. Everyone here is lovely,” she says defensively.
“Actually,” Maze says slowly, still petting Tris, “I am. I’m looking for a Lucifer Morningstar and a Chloe Decker.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know them.” Decker frowns. “Jim Decker lives over there, but he’s a woodworker. Really good one.”
“Nah, it’s okay. I've already found them.” She gives Tris one final pet, then gets to her feet. “In fact, I’m talking to Chloe right now.”
Instead of saying anything, Decker laughs, as if it’s the funniest joke she’s ever heard in her life. When Maze doesn’t join in, her laughter ceases as abruptly as it started. “That’s funny. But I’m afraid you’re mistaking me for someone else.”
“Yeah, Sam said the same thing.”
She frowns. “You talked to Sam?”
“I talked to Lucifer,” Maze corrects, “who for some reason thinks his name is Sam Mitchell. And I really want to know what the fuck is going on here.”
Pulling on Tris’s leash, Decker turns around, but Maze catches her arm. She freezes, not that she could take Maze in a fight. “Let go.”
“I can’t, Chloe. I’m here to bring you home. You and Lucifer have been missing for two months. Your daughter, Trixie, is worried sick about you. You have to come home with me.”
Jerking her arm out of Maze’s grip, Decker scowls. “I don’t know who you are. I don’t have a daughter. And my name is not Chloe. You need to stay away from me, or from Sam, because if you don’t, I will inform the police.”
“Chloe, you are the police. You’re a homicide detective,“ Maze calls out after her, as Decker and Tris walk away. “And I am bringing you home, whether or not you remember it!”
“Stay away from us. I’ve warned you!”
Maze bites her lip, thinking. She might need some help. And a bed, because she has a feeling they won’t go with her willingly. Unless she turns them both off and drags them home. That’ll be her Plan B.
The audacity of that woman, Jane thinks as she heads straight to Sam’s shop. Nausea and anger rolling inside her belly, throwing her off balance. To come to her town, to pet her dog, only to then declare she is not who she is. What a sick thing to do. And completely stupid, as if she doesn’t know herself! As if she hasn’t been living her life, with the man she loves and no children aside from Tris.
Maybe someone put her up to it. To play a cruel prank on her. That would make sense. She just has no idea who, everyone in their town is lovely, and Jane can’t think of anyone from her past who would be malicious enough. Except for one person, but he’s dead. And she won’t apologize for the relief she feels at the reminder.
She huffs, pushing the images away. Whatever her deal is, if that woman is brave enough to show her face again, authorities will have to get involved.
Pausing for a moment just outside Sam’s shop to gather herself, Jane lets go of Tris’s leash and the dog immediately runs inside. She can hear Sam greet her. Despite the anger and frustration, joy pools in her belly as she crosses the threshold.
“What a pleasant surprise,” Sam draws out, still petting their dog, but his eyes are trained on her and sparkle with joy. “To what do I owe such pleasure?”
“She missed you,” Jane says with a smile that threatens to take over her entire face. “So I thought we’d stop by.”
“Just the dog?” he asks dryly and gets to his feet. Barely within touching distance, he reaches out and slips his thumbs into the belt loops of her jeans to pull her into him.
Jane laughs, her hands landing on his chest to steady herself; not that he’d ever let her fall. She hums as she moves them to his broad shoulders and around his neck. “I can’t think of anyone else.”
Not fooled for a second, of course, his eyes narrow at her. Leaning closer—she can’t help a shiver that runs through her body—Sam stops only when their noses touch. “No one else at all?” he murmurs.
Instead of answering, she tilts her head just enough to press their lips together. He smiles against her mouth, and it makes butterflies flutter deliciously in her stomach. And some other places too.
“Hello,” he purrs, barely any distance between their faces. Standing like this, kissing and touching him, his arms wrapped around her, she can’t help what must be a rather stupid—and besotted—grin playing on her lips in response.
She’s so in love with him. She wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Be anyone-
Frowning, Jane pulls back. Before she can even say anything, Sam’s eyebrows draw closer, his frown mirrors hers as he sighs. “Please tell me you’ve not met anyone with an overly active imagination?”
Her shoulders sag. “Yeah, a woman cornered me and Tris on our walk. She wanted to pet Tris, so I let her.” Everyone loves their dog, she’s the unofficial canine queen of their town. And might become the official canine queen sometime in the next few months if they do end up organizing that dog show after all.
“What did she say to you?” he asks. Lines deepen on his forehead, making her want to smooth them out.
“That I’m not me,” she says with a short laugh, the anger from before returning in full force. “That both of us are some other people who are missing.”
Sam nods, hands moving absent-mindedly up and down her arms. By their feet, Tris moves closer as if sensing the anxiety and wanting to fight it. “She said her name was Maze. Like corn?”
“Or labyrinth.”
Shrugging, he bites his lower lip. “She said my name was actually Lucifer.”
“Like the Devil?” she asks dryly.
“What parent looks at their newborn and decides to name it Lucifer? Oh, dear friends and family,” he says, voice sickly sweet, and her lips twitch, “meet our little bundle of joy, baby Lucifer.”
She snorts. What an image, indeed. “Maybe it’s a stage name?”
An eyebrow lifts. “Or something.”
“She said I had a kid. Trixie.” The momentary mirth disappears and anxiety, just short of becoming panic, coils tighter and tighter. Tris and Trixie. The names are way too close for her liking. “I mean I wouldn’t forget a child, if I had one.” It’d be kind of hard to forget a pregnancy. What signs are there anyhow? She has some stretch marks, but everyone has them. “And I don’t,” she says stubbornly; it sounds too defensive even to her own ears.
Sam moves into her space, pulling her into his arms again. In heeled boots, she’s just tall enough to put her chin on his shoulder and hold on tight. “The only kid you have is this cuddle monster here,” he whispers into her hair, but the fear doesn’t quite dissipate. The names. “That woman was lying. You know who you are. I know who you are. And she’s no one of consequence.”
“Right.”
Pulling back, he grabs her fingers and squeezes, before pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. Their eyes meet, his dark one staring intently into hers. She holds on tight, like he’s her lifeline; and he has been, ever since he walked into her life. A lifeline and a lighthouse, helping her navigate the troubled waters.
“This is real,” he whispers, and she nods. “You and I. Everything else is meaningless.”
Swallowing hard, she pulls him into a hug and clings.
At night, she dreams of standing across from him. Darkness envelops them but for a streak of light casting his face in odd shadows. His burning red eyes are filled with tears and she can’t move, can’t run, can’t do anything but stare.
“How could you do this to me? To me?“ he accuses her, but he’s listless, resigned, there is no heat in his voice, it’s as if he’s given up on life. Because of her. “You said what we had was real.”
She wakes up in cold sweat, but the dream is already fading until, moments later, it’s completely gone.
“Honey, what the heck happened?” Matilda asks the next morning.
Frowning, Jane gathers her hair into a top bun. “What do you mean?”
“The scary lady in tight leather pants?”
“Please tell me she’s not staying here?” She sighs, loudly, then groans when Matilda raises her eyebrows in a silent confirmation. “I have never met that woman in my life, I swear. I don’t know anything she’s talking about.”
“Yeah, well, you maybe haven’t met her, but your evil twin has, because let me tell ya, honey, it was your face staring back at me on the posters she showed.”
Jane freezes, her heart skips a beat. “What posters?”
“The missing person posters.” The phone rings and Matilda walks over to pick it up. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, you know I do, you’ve been great. But something’s fishy going on. Hello-”
Stunned, she tunes Matilda out. Could she have a twin sister she doesn’t know about? But then wouldn’t Sam also have a twin brother? No, it doesn’t make sense, it’s too soap opera-y to be real life. Just like her being missing doesn’t make sense either. She remembers her life. She remembers her parents, her high school prom—the flashing yellow lights and sparkling confetti raining down, she wore pink and they played one of her favorite songs, ‘Only you’. She remembers going to college, and a quirky chemistry professor she had one semester. Her best friend Lily dragging her to L.A. to try and become famous. Failed auditions and meeting a record producer. She tries to forget what followed, but holds onto the relief and strength she felt when she ended it.
She remembers meeting Sam. One of the brightest days of her life.
All of it was real, the good and the bad. So naturally, it only means that that Maze woman got their pictures from somewhere and used them to make posters for some nefarious reason. It proves absolutely nothing!
Slamming her hands onto the counter in frustration, Jane moves to the reception area, fighting the urge to call Sam and flee. But it’s a stupid idea, they have nothing to flee from. Or towards. They’re exactly where they want to be.
“Hey, Decker,” she hears dimly, not paying attention. “Shit, I mean, Jane?”
Oh, bloody hell, Jane thinks.
“You clearly didn’t believe me yesterday,” the woman says, approaching her, hands raised up in a gesture of surrender. It doesn’t make her look any less threatening. “And I get it, Chloe Decker is a stubborn woman who’s hot for logic, so here’s your proof.” She thrust her arm out, showing Jane a piece of paper. Her own face stares back at her.
She doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t take the poster. She can’t touch it as if it’s contaminated. If she does, something will happen. Panic pools low and deep in her stomach, impossible to ignore. Fight or flight kicks in, and she isn’t sure what she should fight or where she should flee. This doesn’t prove anything, the words loop in her head like a mantra. Technology has come a long way. It’s not hard to find pictures of her and manipulate them.
The woman, Maze, doesn’t seem bothered by the silence. She just moves the top poster aside revealing another poster underneath; Sam’s smiling face fills Jane’s vision. He’s wearing a suit and one of his devil-may-care smirks. Her breath catches inaudibly.
She remembers her life, this is nothing but a trick. It must be.
“See? Now I don’t know what the fuck happened with your memories, and why you’re playing house with zero and a half children, but you need to snap out of it right now. You need to come home with me to your real kid, a human kid.”
Despite the tightness in her chest, Jane laughs; she won’t show any weakness. “This is my home. And I’m exactly where I belong. Now I need you to leave and never come back.” She takes the posters and rips them in two, then again, and lets them drift down to the floor next to Maze’s boots.
“I can’t do that, Chloe. I have to bring you home to Trixie. I gave her my word.”
“That sounds like a you problem because I don’t have a daughter. If I had, I would remembered her. And my name is Jane. Now leave,” she says, putting on the air of authority she knows she has, but Maze doesn’t even blink.
“I can’t,” she repeats stubbornly.
“Fine, then I will. There’s plenty to do in the back.” With a glare, Jane turns and walks away. Her heart hammers wildly in her chest. I remember my life, she repeats to herself over and over again. She needs to put herself back together and do her job. This has to be a prank. Nothing more. A cruel prank is a perfectly good explanation. Maybe she’s on camera!
When hours later, Jane runs into Lizzie, another staff member, she hands her the posters scotch taped back together. Silently, Jane takes them, ignoring the look Lizzie gives her.
It’s nothing, she thinks, but her heart aches.
She wants Maze gone, except when she asks Matilda about it, the other woman just shakes her head. At least she does it apologetically.
“Honey, do you know how much she paid?”
Jane sighs. They’re doing fine, but money is money.
“I will kick her out,” Matilda promises. “Tomorrow.”
She works herself into an anxious spiral, and when the day is finally over, the itch to go home is relentless. The folded posters burn a hole in the back pocket of her jeans. Maze hasn’t shown her face again, so who knows where the woman is and what she’s doing.
Jane checks her phone, again and again, but there are no calls or messages from Sam waiting for her, and she hopes that Maze left him alone at least. Or better yet just left their town without saying anything. Mission accomplished, two people thoroughly spooked.
When she opens the door to their place, the delicious smell of a home cooked meal fills their small rental, signaling that Sam is already home. And though not very hungry, she looks forward to trying whatever he made today. If what she went through in the past is any indication, she very well deserved to meet someone who is a fantastic cook. Karma and all that. Closing the door, Jane smiles, her anxiety easing off a little. This feels right. This is real. This is the life they’re actually living.
Tris runs up to her for the obligatory hello pets, and she kneels to give the dog her full attention. “Hi, baby. Hi, I’ve missed you, too.”
“Just her?” Sam says innocently from the kitchen area.
Grinning, Jane toes off her shoes and glances in his direction. Something’s on the stove and there’s a bunch of vegetables waiting to be sliced on the island next to him. “Gosh, you’re so needy. Have I been neglecting you?”
With a spatula in his hand and a ridiculous Kiss the Cook apron tied around his waist, he pretends to think. “Mm, I won’t complain, but I think this”—with both hands he gestures to his long, lithe body, and her mouth waters for a different reason—“deserves more attention. Don’t you? I mean, darling, look at me. I’m a snack, and I know you want to eat it.”
She laughs. He’s ridiculous and she loves him. Still grinning, he flips a glass with a lot of intended flourish before pouring an expensive red into it and offering it to her.
When they’re close but not touching, she stops and peers at the stovetop then takes the glass with a small smile of thanks. “I think I appreciate this if not all then most nights. Do you think you’re maybe getting greedy?”
He loops one arm around her waist, pulling her closer, and points at the assortment of veggies with the spatula. “I can hardly see how that’s my fault, given how radishing you look tonight and every night.”
Her smile freezes as the pun stirs something of a memory, no, more of a feeling. Disappointment and jealousy, and an odd sense of relief too. “Candy,” she says the word without thinking; it comes to her easily, but doesn’t seem to mean anything specific.
Putting the spatula down, Sam wraps both arms around her, his hands coming to rest on the swell of her ass. “Candy, what? We have some, I think. Do you have anything particular in mind?” He wiggles his eyebrows, suggestion in his voice.
Jane shakes her head. “No, radishes and candy. Something’s familiar about it.”
“Well, I’m not dipping radishes into chocolate, if that’s what you’re talking about,” he says, scrunching up his nose, and Jane snorts. It sounds disgusting, not to mention there’s nothing romantic about crunchy food, especially vegetables. No one eats chocolate covered celery.
He’s right of course, she’s being silly. It must be something she heard before; memory is a strange thing, smells and sounds are capable of conjuring up all kinds of long forgotten images. Words too. With both hands now braced on his chest, she rises up on tiptoe for a kiss, feeling his hands squeeze her butt.
The back pocket. He pulls back a little, a question in his eyes.
Sighing, she steps out of his embrace. “Our new friend gave me this today.”
He keeps his expression neutral as he takes the duct taped posters from her. Hands empty, she just clasps them together, trying not to fidget. Trying not to give in to the urge to pace.
Seconds pass, and he still doesn’t say anything. The earlier anxiety returns tenfold, speeding up her heart. “Please, say something.”
He lifts his head, his deep brown eyes focusing on her; there’s an intensity in them that she usually adores, but right now it only feeds her anxiety, and she feels she may implode with tension crawling up her ribcage.
Wordlessly, Sam puts the posters on the island, face down, and takes a step towards her. Reaching for her hand, he lifts it up and presses a kiss to the center of her palm before pressing it to his cheek. She doesn’t realize she’s crying until he wipes the tear with his thumb. “I love you,” he says.
The simple declaration steals her breath. It’s not the first time he said the words, but it affects her much like the first time. Losing the battle, she gasps in the air with a sob, letting him pull her into a tight embrace.
“I don’t know what kind of sick joke this is, but”—he whispers into her ear, then pulls back a little to cup her face in his hands—“it is a joke. I know who I am. I know how I feel about you, and nothing, you hear me, nothing can ever change that.”
Sliding her hands behind his neck, she crushes their lips together. “I can’t lose you,” she whispers into his mouth.
Without looking, he reaches behind him to turn off the stove, then as if she weighs nothing, he lifts her up; her legs automatically wrap around his waist. “You won’t,” he whispers into the heated space between their faces. “The only way you’re ever getting rid of me, is if you tell me to go.”
“I won’t. I won’t ever tell you to go.” It scares her sometimes just as much as it thrills her, how important, how essential he’s become. To tell him to go is unthinkable, he is part of her now.
She tightens her arms and legs around him as he walks them to their bedroom, pressing kisses to his cheeks and nose and forehead. His lips close over the pulsepoint on her neck, sucking a mark into her tender skin, and she groans.
One of his hands snakes under her shirt, deftly unclasping the bra. The casual show of his strength makes something coil hot and possessive inside her; he’s strong, and beautiful, and wonderful, and he’s hers. Dragging his face up, she kisses him hard just as he steps across the threshold of their bedroom.
They fall down onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, unwilling to separate for even a second as their lips move desperately in a well practiced dance. But the need to be closer grows stronger with every second, and she slips her hands out of his hair; he immediately makes a sound at the loss.
Their eyes meet, his pupils are dilated and the awe takes her breath away. “I’ve never wanted anything in my life the way I want you,“ he murmurs quietly, reverently. Unexpected tears sting, but she doesn’t let them fall. “I have never loved anyone the way I love you.”
This is right, she thinks, unable to look away. They are right. Everything else is meaningless. Everything else is just background noise.
Later, when they catch their breaths, he lifts his face from her shoulder and presses his lips to hers in a sweet kiss. A silent promise. His hair is a mess, he looks beautiful and happy.
It’s all she wants. All she’ll ever need. Just them. Forever.
Lost in thought, Jane watches him put on black jeans and reach out to grab a shirt. He’s facing away from her, and yet again she’s mesmerized by the play of muscles on his back. Being shirtless suits him. It more than suits her, he’s really easy on the eye. When he turns, there’s a barely there smug smirk on his lips and delight in his expression at having caught her staring, again. It snaps her out of her daydreaming.
“Oh, shut up,” she says, unable to hide her own grin, even if she feels her cheeks heat up. Just to show him, she rolls her eyes, not that it fools him, never has.
He presses a hand to his chest, all fake innocence. “I didn’t say a word.”
“Your mouth didn’t, but your face sure did.”
He keeps grinning as he buttons up the shirt. Somehow, it affects her almost more than watching him unbutton it instead. Her own fingers itch to help, except if she does, they will definitely be late.
Suddenly, a thought floats by and she bites back a snort. They haven’t been together all that long, so there’s plenty of things to discover about each other yet, and she loves it; all the new and interesting and sweet unknowns about him. Peeling away all the layers, like a charming and sexy onion.
Here’s another thought, what’s with them and vegetable puns?
Clearing her throat, she shakes her head. “What do you do first? Button or zipper?”
He frowns slightly. “Pardon me?”
“You just put on your jeans, so did you fasten then zip, or zip then fasten?”
“Uh, fasten first?”
She grins again. “Me too.”
He huffs out a laugh, coming closer to press a kiss to her lips. “You’re adorable. And freaky, you know that?”
Wrapping her arms around his neck in a loose ring, Jane gasps in mock shock, and he squints at her. “I haven’t even asked you which sock you put on first.”
“Now that’s confidential information.”
“Is there something I should sign?” She grins, the words registering a moment later. The implication she didn’t mean exactly.
Leaning down, he waits until their lips almost touch. “Perhaps,” he whispers, and just when she closes her eyes in anticipation, he ducks from under her arms and walks away. “Gonna be late,” he calls out, a grin in his voice.
Freaking tease.
Their hands brush as they near the front door. The keys dangle from her fingers, making small sounds. He smiles as he pulls it open to let her through.
“Chloe!” A desperate yell startles her nearly out of her skin just as she finds herself enveloped in a bear hug. But before she can even squeal in surprise and panic, the strange man is ripped away. With a gasp she focuses on Sam pinning him to the wall, arm pressed across the man’s throat.
“Lucifer, what the fuck?” both the strange man and Maze ask at the same time.
Sam growls, deep and threatening, if she wasn’t standing so close she wouldn’t have heard. If she wasn’t touching his back, she wouldn’t have felt it.
“I am getting tired of this,” his voice is dangerously low, it sends a shiver down her spine. “If you do not leave us alone, if you ever lay a finger on my partner again, I will make your life a living hell, do you understand?”
The man’s eyebrows come together, but strangely he doesn’t appear to be afraid. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, man. Let me go,” he says without even looking at Sam. Instead he’s staring at her, and she can’t help staring back. His face is one she’s never seen before, but his voice… She’s heard that voice, she just can’t remember when or where. In a movie? Or a dream? A cold shiver runs down her back.
A thin noise has them turn their heads towards the woman; with an expert move Maze twirls two curved, lethal looking blades in her hands. An easy smile plays on her face; someone not to mess with. “Let him go, and get inside. All of you.” The steel in her command along with the knives suggest it would be unwise to argue. There’s no doubt in her mind that Sam could easily deal with this guy, but neither of them is an actual fighter, and this strange woman will probably enjoy using excessive force.
He glances at her, waiting for confirmation, then steps away. The man sags a little, his hand rubbing at his throat. They stop just inside their living room, shoulder to shoulder, a united front. Tris lifts her head, but seeing them seems to lose interest and goes back to napping. On impulse, she slips her hand into his, and he squeezes her fingers in silent reassurance.
Something else squeezes her heart.
The intruders face them. Maze keeps twirling her knives as if the situation could get any more tense and she plans to achieve it. She bites her tongue, she’ll be damned if she shows just how much it unnerves her. No signs of weakness.
“Okay,” the man says. “What the hell was that?”
“I told you, they don’t remember who they are,” Maze says. “I mean look at him, Lucifer and flannel?” She rolls her eyes and clicks her knives together like she’s itching to sink them into something.
The man looks at Maze, then back at them. His eyes are wild. “Guys, what happened to you?”
“I assure you,” Sam says through gritted teeth, “that nothing at all out of the ordinary happened to us, apart of course from you two doing your best to disrupt our lives. We are not the people you’re looking for, so we would greatly appreciate it if you’d just walk out of our house and out of our lives. Forever.”
“They don’t look like they’re pretending,” the man says, addressing Maze, as if they’re not standing right here.
Maze shakes her head. “Nope. That’s the problem. Unless you want to taser them and, well, you know.”
“Okay, no one’s gonna be tasering anyone,” the man says, and carefully, not making any sudden movements, reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone. “I have some photos that can prove you’re not who you are.”
Heart hammering inside her chest, Jane swallows. “Photos can be doctored.”
“I know. I also have a couple of videos. And some documents.” The man reaches inside his inner jacket pocket. “But the pictures, they’re also from when Trixie was little. You look younger as well, of course.”
“Trixie?” Sam asks.
“Yeah, you named your dog after your daughter, Chloe,” Maze says, half a bite, half a chuckle. “That’s all the proof you need. Your memories must be blocked somehow, but they’re still there. You just have to try harder. And you need to trust us.”
“Trust you?” Suddenly angry, like a switch flipped, the pent up energy inside her bursts. “You come into my life. You tell me all these ridiculous things. And you try to ruin everything. I have all my memories intact, thank you so much for your concern. I remember everything, and you-” her breath catches in her throat as the man holds out his hand with a photograph showing three people.
The man, Jane, and a little girl of about six or seven years old squished between them.
“What the hell is this?” Sam asks quietly next to her.
“You know what this is. You’ve been missing for eight weeks, give or take,” the man explains tiredly. “The trail immediately went cold, but Maze finally tracked you down, and it looks like you’ve been here in Canada all along.”
“The girl in the picture is your kid, Chloe. Well, yours and Dan’s,” Maze says, nodding at the man, the edge is gone from her voice. “She’s been… not good, this entire time you’ve been gone. But now it’s time to come home. It’s time for you to come home to your daughter, Chloe.”
Black tendrils of panic and desperation grab at her insides, squeezing them until she can’t breathe. This is wrong. She is not the person in the photo. She does not have a child with another man. She would know that. “No.”
“In case you’re wondering, we’re divorced and co-parent Trixie,” Dan says quietly, glancing at their linked hands. “But Lucifer here…”
Sam’s fingers tighten almost to the point of pain, but she ignores it. It’s nothing compared to what they’re implying is true. It’s not true. “What?” he asks through gritted teeth.
“Well, he has a girlfriend, actually. Eve. She’s been pretty worried as well.”
This can’t be happening. This is not happening. Her life isn’t falling apart before her very eyes. She doesn’t have a child, and Sam doesn’t have a girlfriend. They’re not some other people, some strangers to each other.
Next to her, Sam begins to laugh, startling everyone but Maze.
“Lucifer?” he gasps out. “And he’s dating an Eve? Well, isn’t that a little too biblical? Next thing you’ll tell me I am actually the Devil.” Her hand falls listlessly by her side as he lets go.
“You are the Devil,” Maze says, annoyed.
“Maze, come on.”
“Well, it’s not my fault you don’t believe it, Dan. Decker here didn’t believe either, but she’s part of the club now. And you should be too. Honestly, it’s getting ridiculous.”
“So I’m actually the Devil, who then somehow forgot that I was the Devil,” Sam repeats, still chuckling slightly. A little madly. “Have you considered that maybe it’s for the best? Who would want to remember Hell? And you wonder why we don’t believe you and your stories. Nice try by the way. ‘A’ plus and a big gold star for effort.”
Sighing, clearly losing patience, Maze takes a step forward. “I would prove it to you by cutting you, but you’re vulnerable in Decker’s presence, so you’d bleed. So how about I just-” She doesn’t finish speaking. Lounging forward lightning fast, she swings at him, both blades making sounds in the air.
Jane gasps, scrambling out of the way, but she is not the target. Sam easily avoids being hit by leaning away almost inhumanly fast. Almost effortlessly. Maze doesn’t stop her advances. He blocks her, again and again and again. The dog barks, no longer sleeping, and Jane grabs her collar. With a precise move Sam hits Maze’s arm, halting the swing before it even starts, but the woman uses the momentum to turn around. She aims at his middle, and he swiftly jerks his torso back, only for her to go for his legs. With both hands, Sam catches her wrists, roughly pulling her to her feet. The blades frame his face, but his grip is tight enough to restrain her completely.
A shuddering breath later, Maze relaxes her hold on the knives, letting them hang loose, hooked on her forefingers.
Silence descends on their living room, except for Tris’s whining, as everyone tries to process the fight that took place in a matter of seconds.
With a gasp, Sam lets go of Maze’s wrists, pushing her away.
“Exactly my point,” she says, looking completely unbothered again, and twirls her blades. “In case no one else noticed, he was defending himself instead of attacking me back, because he knows I mean well, and that he can actually damage me. Permanently.”
“You didn’t know that,” Dan accuses her, but Maze just shrugs.
“He’s the Devil, Dan. It’s all there, deep down. No matter how hard you try to forget it.” She ignores the roll of his eyes, and looks at Jane. “Maybe that’s why he can’t remember, you make him vulnerable and susceptible to whatever is affecting you two. Have you been spending a lot of time together?”
With her throat completely dry, it takes Jane more than one attempt to get the words out. “Outside of work, yes. But I don’t-”
“You must work close enough for it to still affect him. Anyway, who cares, we should go. The car’s outside, it’ll take you to the airport, and then home sweet home.”
Turning, she tries to meet Sam’s eyes, but he stands several steps away, shellshocked, staring at his hands as if they betrayed him. In a moment, Jane notices that they’re trembling. She wants to grab him, shake him, insist that it’s all a misunderstanding, yet she doesn’t move.
“No,” she says. “No, we are not going anywhere.“
Maze huffs. “Come on, Chloe. When was the last time you called your mom?”
A while ago. It proves nothing.
“Here,” Dan says, handing her his phone. “Look at this.”
On autopilot, she takes it. Her heart drops down to her feet when the words register in her brain. Lucifer Morningstar. Businessman. Playboy. Police consultant. She scrolls down and her own face stares back at her, they’re in some club. Morningstar’s partner, Detective Chloe Decker. She feels him come up behind her. The phone shakes in her hand. She doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t know what to think. This cannot be happening.
“He has a Wikipedia page?” the words come out of her mouth without permission. “Anyone could’ve made it.”
Dan huffs, not unkindly, and takes the phone back. “Yeah, but no one can edit a life. I said I’ve got your legal documents with me too. And there are far too many people who actually know you two and can corroborate our story. Unless you’d rather believe we managed to con dozens, no, hundreds of people into, what, pranking you? Now, that’d cost a small fortune.”
On her right, Maze grumbles something under her nose, then touches her elbow. “Come on,” she says with a surprising gentleness in her voice. “It’ll be fine. We’ll deal with your life here and your stuff later, but right now let’s just get you both home. Trixie needs you. We’ll take your dog too. She’s feisty, I like it. Come on, Chloe, the plane’s waiting.”
Teeth chattering but not from cold, she meets her eye, and Maze gives her a small smile then a gentle push forward. In the hallway, she picks up Tris’s leash and fastens it to the dog’s collar. Her keys are still in the jacket pocket, so she hands them over to the other woman.
A single tear rolls down her cheek when Maze slams the door shut on Jane’s old life.
So none of it was real?