Chapter Text
Pain shoots through her head as awareness slowly trickles back into her mind. Her body aches all over and she feels...wrong somehow. Opening her eyes, Chloe feels a jolt of panic as she wonders if she’s gone blind, but realizes it isn’t her eyesight that’s the problem; wherever she is, it is completely, pitch black. She’s never been afraid of the dark, even as a little kid, but this makes her a little uneasy. She can barely see her fingers waving six inches from her face.
The second thing she registers is that she can move her hands. She isn’t bound or restrained in any way, but that doesn’t answer any of her questions. Where is she? Why is she here? Is she alone? Focusing on her senses, she can hear a faint drip-plop drip-plop of a leaky pipe and water hitting a puddle. Other creaky sounds that make her shiver. And what she thinks might be deep, even breathing not far from her.
She isn’t alone.
“Hello?” she whispers into the dark, widening her eyes and trying to force them to adjust. Normally, her eyesight is perfect, but even she can’t see in complete darkness.
The breathing doesn’t change or move closer.
Where was she before this? What was she doing?
Her memory finally comes rushing back. She was with Lucifer, working a case. Three sets of victims, all couples, who were abducted and tortured before they were murdered. Chloe and Lucifer tracked the evidence to an abandoned house and they were arguing about something, but then, they’re always arguing about something these days. Lucifer walked off in a sulky huff and Chloe was looking around for evidence. She heard a shout and a crash, and rushed in that direction, worried for her partner and...that’s all she remembers.
Some of her nerves settle slightly. If she’s right, then the person breathing nearby is Lucifer. If Lucifer is here, they’ll find a way out of this, because they always do. The question now is, is he hurt or just unconscious?
“Lucifer?” she whispers a little louder, keeping her ears open for any other sounds. She checks her back pocket for her cell phone, disappointed but not surprised when she doesn’t find it. “Lucifer, wake up.”
The ground is cold, hard, and dirty—cement, she thinks—as she starts feeling around her. Following the sound of her partner’s breathing, relief surges when she feels a long leg wrapped in what she knows is expensive Italian wool. She carefully follows the leg up and—
And that definitely was not his leg.
Chloe yanks her hand back like she was burned, glad he’s unconscious or the innuendos and comments would be unbearable right now. Moving a little higher, she eventually finds his chest where she can feel a strong, steady heart beating beneath her palm. Higher still, she locates his face, his familiar stubble, and his cheek. She taps him a little harder than strictly necessary.
“Lucifer, wake up,” she hisses.
A sound of something skittering behind her has her whipping around and holding her breath. A rat, maybe? She hates rats. Looking around, she can’t even see a hint of light in this room. Are they underground?
Fear grips her throat and she tries to force it back. Swallowing hard, she looks down at her partner. Or where she thinks he is. “Lucifer, please,” she whispers. “I need your help on this one, partner.”
As if those were the magic words, he snorts and smacks his lips together, mumbling incoherently. A second later, he scoots closer to her, curling an arm around her waist and resting his head on her lap. Like even in his sleep, he’s drawn to her. He sighs contentedly, nuzzling her thigh. It would be super adorable and sweet if they weren’t, you know, in some sort of unknown danger and in complete darkness.
“Hey,” she whispers again, her fingers sliding through his hair. “Come on, Lucifer, wake up!”
His breathing changes finally and his body tenses. “What’m I...” he mumbles. “‘Tective?”
Chloe sighs in relief. “Yeah, yeah, it’s me. I’m not sure where we are, but I think we’re really in trouble this time,” she tells him quietly.
All at once, he’s completely awake and sits up. “Are you hurt?” he asks urgently. “Why’s my head throbbing? Bloody vulnerability.”
“Mine hurts, too, but I’m okay. I just wish I could see where we are.”
Lucifer is silent for a moment. “A basement of some sort, perhaps. The walls are padded. Can you really not see?” he says incredulously.
Chloe stares in his direction. “Wait, you can see?”
“Well, yes, of course I can, Detective. The benefits of celestial eyesight,” he says haughtily. She can almost see him tugging on his jacket lapels. “Far superior to a human’s.”
She rolls her eyes at the Devil metaphors, but lets it go. “You can seriously see?” she asks excitedly. “Then we can get out of here.”
“Ah. No can do, I’m afraid. There don’t seem to be any doors that I can make out. Or if there are, they’re built into the walls,” he says apologetically.
Disappointment rises, as does the fear and panic she’s been trying to force away. “Shit. Okay. Do you have your phone? Mine’s gone.”
The sound of rustling cloth reaches her ears, then, “No, I don’t seem to have anything on my person. Whoever has us stole my bloody flask, even.”
“Right. Because your flask is what you need to be worried about right now,” she says flatly, shaking her head. “That house we were in. It was setup like a maze almost—an obstacle course, do you remember?”
“I do, yes,” he says slowly, his voice moving as he probably looks around the room with his ‘superior’ eyesight. “Quite the arrangement our killer had. I’m assuming that’s who has us?”
“That’d be my guess,” she answers grimly. “Okay, so let’s—”
Before she can start forming a plan, a crackle makes her jump and reach for Lucifer’s hand. He stiffens briefly, though in surprise from the sound or her touch, she doesn’t know. A second later, he relaxes, scooting closer and linking their fingers together.
“Glad to see you’re both finally awake,” comes a new voice over a speaker somewhere. “I was starting to wonder if I’d pushed my luck this time.”
“Oh, you most certainly have,” Lucifer growls. “And if you do not release us from this room, I assure you—”
“Ah, ah, ah,” the voice taunts, “that isn’t how the game is played. Detective Decker, Mr. Morningstar, welcome to my house of mystery. You two are the newest contestants in my little scenario, and I have very high hopes for the both of you.”
“We aren’t playing your demented games,” Lucifer snaps. “Show yourself, you coward, and I’ll show you how I play.”
The voice laughs and it sends a chill down Chloe’s spine. “I’ll tell you what, you have three hours to find your way out, and if you manage that, then I’ll turn myself into the police. Assuming, of course, you live that long. Tell me, Mr. Morningstar, how are you feeling?”
“Pissed off. You stole my flask of Macallan ‘26. I’ll have you know that’s a priceless year,” Lucifer says evenly.
“Lucifer,” Chloe says quietly. A bad feeling is taking over her gut. “Seriously, how do you feel?”
Lucifer doesn’t answer immediately. “Not well,” he confesses under his breath, probably too quiet for the voice to hear. “Something isn’t right, Detective.”
“I’ve injected your partner with a unique poison, Detective Decker. One I believe you are intimately familiar with. Professor Carlisle was my mentor, after all.”
“Oh, fuck,” Chloe whispers. “Carlisle is dead,” she adds a bit louder. “I stopped him, and I’ll stop you, too.”
“Maybe. But will that be before or after your partner’s insides boil? Perhaps you can tell him what that feels like. You do remember, don’t you?”
Since it only happened a few months ago, yeah, she remembers. All too clearly.
“What do you want?” Chloe asks, keeping her voice even. She’s trying to see Lucifer’s face, to see if his nose is bleeding yet. Those poisons acted within twenty-four hours without the antidotes. How long have they been here?
“To see if you’re really as good as you think you are.”
“Oh, I assure you, Mister Killer, she’s far better,” Lucifer purrs. He doesn't sound the least bit concerned for himself. Because of course he doesn’t; when does he ever? “She’s the best there is, and she would have had your mentor behind bars if he hadn’t taken the coward’s way out.”
“Here are the rules of the game: You have three hours to make your way through my little house of horrors. You will have to solve riddles to get to the next room. Sacrifices will need to be made. The only resources you have are each other. I suggest you trust each other and be honest, or none of it counts. At the end of the maze, you’ll find the exit and the antidote. Nobody has ever made it past the fourth level, so I look forward to seeing the two of you in action. Best of luck to you.”
The speaker crackles again and goes silent. Chloe’s mind is whirring with memories of her own poisoning, worrying about Lucifer, and what this ‘maze’ has in store for them. What she doesn’t understand is how none of the other victims showed signs of poisoning, even after tox screens and autopsies. Were they poisoned or was this saved for Chloe and Lucifer?
It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that Lucifer has been poisoned and I need to get him out of here to the antidote. I need to save him the way he saved me. I owe him that much.
“Lucifer, how do you feel?” she asks softly.
He swallows a few times, and she wonders if he really is taking this as casually as he does everything else or if he’s putting on a show for her and for the killer. “I’ve been better, Detective. Lightheaded, a bit woozy. But...” He pauses for a moment. “No nosebleed yet.”
“So we still have some time. Good. Okay. We need to find a door and get out of here.”
“Right. Yes. Stay here a moment, Detective.” There’s some shuffling sounds and a muffled grunt as Lucifer stands up and wanders away. Chloe wants to get up and follow him, not to just sit here in the dark freaking out. But he’s the one who can actually see, somehow, so for now, she’s useless.
More skittering sounds, this time in front of her. Something moves across her ankle and she can’t hold back her yelp.
“Detective?” Lucifer calls urgently. “Are you okay?”
“Fine! I’m fine! Something moved across my foot. Startled me. I’m good. Sorry.”
A sigh of relief. “Good. One moment, darling.”
Pressing her lips together, Chloe gives herself just a moment to think about what will happen if they don’t find the antidote in time. She dropped pretty quickly at that party and from there, she had seizures. The pain was horrific, though the doctors kept her suitably medicated. After a while, it didn’t help. She could feel her insides start to boil as the poison coursed through her.
Nobody is tougher than Lucifer, she reminds herself. If anybody can beat this, it’s us. We’ll get out of here, and he’ll be fine.
Everything fell apart after her poisoning. Lucifer left for Vegas for two weeks, and she drove herself crazy trying to find him. She put out BOLOs for him, spent time she should have spent with her daughter checking everywhere she could think of. Sleep was hard to come by in those two weeks; every time she closed her eyes, she imagined him dead in a ditch somewhere.
And then he showed up one day like he never left, with a shiny new wife on his arm. That’s when she realized their partnership doesn’t mean the same to him as it does to her. When she understood that Lucifer would never change. He doesn’t care about her the way she cares about him, and he never will. They’re partners, and they’re friends, nothing more. Her heart still feels like it’s been stomped beneath his red-soled Louboutin whenever she thinks about it.
“Detective.”
She startles when she hears his voice, just above her, then feels his hand reaching for her. Though she hesitates, she takes his hand and lets him pull her to her feet. “Did you, um, did you find anything?” she asks, shoving back the memories of Candy Fucking Morningstar to the back of her mind. None of that matters right now; all that matters is their survival.
Lucifer pauses. “Are you all right? You sound...odd.”
“I’m fine,” she says harshly. “We need to focus and get out of here so we can get the antidote, or...” She can’t finish the sentence. She can’t say the words. Can’t even imagine them.
He sighs. “Right,” he murmurs. “I found a door, but I didn’t want to open it until you were with me. Who knows what this psychopath has planned for us. We shouldn’t be separated.”
Her heart leaps. “You found a door?”
Lucifer hums, still holding her hand and leading her across the room. Every so often, he adjusts course, helping her avoid obstacles in the dark. He takes her hand and places it against the padded wall. “Just stand there a moment, I’ll get it open, okay?”
Chloe nods, then remembers it’s dark. “Yeah, okay.”
There’s silence for a few seconds, and she gets the feeling he’s watching her. With a sigh, he starts feeling around the wall, she can hear his fingers dragging against the hard padding. It’s like something one would find in a psychiatric hospital.
“Just need to get my fingers in...there...” he says to himself. He grunts a little in effort. Chloe knows how strong he is, so how much stronger is this door if even Lucifer is struggling? “Ah, there we are.”
The door opens and a burst of dim light hits her eyes, though it might as well be like staring into the sun. She groans, and covers her eyes with a hand, squinting as she looks through the doorway. A long hallway. Wooden crates line the walls which look to be made of razor wire.
“What the hell...” she whispers, staring at the walls. “Who is this guy?”
Lucifer huffs, adjusting his cufflinks. “I’m not entirely sure, but this is twisted even for me. What do you think are in those crates?”
Chloe shakes her head as her eyes begin to adjust. “I don’t know.” She looks behind her at the room they're still standing inside. There’s nothing here but some broken furniture—chairs, a table. Nothing useful. “But if I was locking people in this place, giving them three hours to make it through, I’d set up distractions, decoys, to force them to waste their time.”
Lucifer gives her an impressed look. “Clever Detective,” he murmurs. “Shall we, then?”
She nods, eyeing the razor wire-lined walls. “Just stay away from the walls, yeah?”
With a huff that might be laughter, he takes a step forward, and they step together into the unknown.