Chapter Text
Alis Grave Nil
With wings, nothing is heavy
Mid-May 2021
Los Angeles
The space is so small and she feels tired. Her body is still feeling off, something Chloe believes is obvious from her little winces that betray the occurrence of something uncomfortable happening at every strenuous stretch.
The little bell rings and the elevator doors open. Every time is like the first time. The lights are dim, the place lush and spotless. Bottles adorn the backlit marble wall in various sizes and flavours of amber within. Chloe knows her arrival has been heard but will not be acknowledged.
In moments like this one she wants to scream at him but when was the last time she actually did that?
“Lucifer?” Chloe says staying carefully in a safe distance.
He does not reply and she would be foolish to believe he ever would.
“You cannot do this. Not again,” she insists and yet he stubbornly remains silent.
Lucifer finally turns his head but holds his ground. He will never be apologetic for the choices he made and deep down Chloe is thankful for that.
He is such a contrast to the man she met all those years ago. Dressed in grey gym pants the fire illuminates his soft features and bare skin. His hair now stand curly and untamed, no gel has come close to them in months and he likes it. So does she.
“I know,” he whispers, humming slowly.
Chloe does not dare to disturb him so she does not close the gap between them until he has had his fill.
His 5’ o’clock shadow is more prominent tonight making it to a light soft scruff. He doesn’t mind as for the first time they both know he is comfortable in his own skin. He is no longer baffled over what he is because Lucifer has chosen to be what he wants. So he is a man looking with adoration the sleeping newborn.
Trixie sighs in her sleep and Lucifer rocks himself making sure both of their children continue their slumber peacefully.
“I just feel safe here. It’s home,” he tries to explain and Chloe realises that the white picket fence attempt is a no go.
She is again oddly calm about it. Lucifer always had simple demands expressed in absurd ways. This is just one of them.
“And that is why I came here,” she puts his worries to rest knowing that this fifth attempt is also their last.
The penthouse and the floor underneath it would be home as no matter of Chloe’s fleeting dreams of normality, two out of the five times it had been her returning to the penthouse, not Lucifer.
Truthfully, it had been just a matter of time before she had packed and insisted they moved back. She is just glad she will be able to tease him about it for the next few months instead of the other way around.
“How was work?” Lucifer asks waiting as the baby in his forearms stretches.
“As all first days are,” Chloe replies coming closer to the scene she is now attempting to join.
Trixie has grown and yet Lucifer cannot deny her couch piggybacks that always end on her falling asleep on him. He doesn’t complain, not once has Lucifer ever complained about anything making Chloe’s job as the strict parent difficult at times.
His long framed glasses are on the crystal table and she smirks at Lucifer’s insistence to wear them. A joke became a habit and then a necessity. For what only they knew.
The baby stretches again and with a determined huff declares nap time is over.
“Hey,” Lucifer greets the two murky blue eyes as they try to focus on him.
The glistering little silver heart, pierced on Lucifer’s nipple catches the baby’s attention for a while but both Lucifer and Chloe know that it will not be long before the infant remembers its empty belly.
The jewellery, a souvenir of a rather memorable case, rests inches below the unfaded silver scar that blemishes his otherwise warm honey skin tone. Lucifer has declared he likes it yet she knows it’s also a reminder of the child he almost lost and the one that was conceived the day he was pierced.
“I thought you would be dying to hold him. The first day after your maternity leave and all,” Lucifer tells her but he does not make a move to pass her the miraculously still calm baby.
“I am,” Chloe admits getting comfortable on the armchair next to them making sure she can reach the baby’s blanket if she needs to.
Nothing remains the same and her first day back to work has confirmed that. Dan and Maze are terrorizing Canada again to what appears to be the best turn in her ex-husband career. He has finally found a way to balance what he was suppressing for so long, a duality that still turmoil’s Lucifer from time to time.
Lucifer’s thumb brushes the newborn’s skin and it yawns deeply. At times like these, she believes she can wait until he is ready to join her again at the precinct working on cases and listening to Ella’s horrific panel contribution at the latest forensic conference. Always riveting, always bloody.
The reconstructed onyx ring catches now the baby’s attention and tries to munch it off Lucifer’s finger. It's exactly the same but now within it's the diamond from Chloe’s necklace. One of the diamond earrings she had from her father. A present of new beginnings that for his daughter began two weeks after the movie’s premiere with his death.
In moments of tenderness, Lucifer calls Beatrice his wings and since Decker was born he is calling their children his pair of wings.
It is why within the binding the inscribed words are the ones Lucifer has carried for aeons. 'Alis Grave Nil'. Nothing is heavy with wings. However, Lucifer has never shown any inclination of regrowing his wings.
They are not important for the man he is today Lucifer confessed to her after complying years later to his Father's words on granting Amenadiel a pair. How could they be when their children are all the wings he needs? In her eyes, he is more comfortable flying figuratively with them than he ever was with his physical wings. Which begs the question once more.
“After all those months, why Decker?” Chloe asks him again for the millionth time.
She expects him to shrug and smile as he always does but this time as the seconds pass his lips move.
When Lucifer asked to name their child she had been reluctant yet he relished on the experience of her pregnancy and their son’s eventual arrival. The choice had both surprised, relieved and finally moved her. Decker Morningstar. Meanwhile, Trixie carried neither thus remaining Beatrice Espinoza.
“Many pray for a miracle every day. Good or bad, in the slim chance they are granted one it is not because they are worthy. It’s because of what they are willing to sacrifice for one,” Lucifer slowly confided passing Decker to her arms for his afternoon meal.
“He is precious. Years of trying and here he is,” Chloe cooed laughing at her son’s interest on her unbuttoning blouse.
It had been a Hellish day and no matter the times she has pumped, finally, direct feeding came as a blessing.
“Not him. You,” Lucifer corrected her playing with Trixie’s limp hand that was suspended from his shoulder.
“John Decker sacrificed something, perhaps even his life eventually for a Miracle. Not directly but deals of such kind always require payment. We are just lucky to play on our own board and not Father’s,” he said slowly watching her frustration as Decker begun to fuss over losing his latching.
“Do you still think we were pawns after all you now know?” She asked him rearranging the baby in her chest.
Handing her the small blanket Lucifer rested his hand on her knee drawing small cycles on it.
“If only all the games were as generous and all the pawns as fortunate,” he said seriously.
Chloe knew if it was not for their daughter on his back and their son’s lunch in progress there would have been a slow and deep kiss after that, perhaps a long evening under the sheets.
"Lucifer what you describe is love,” Chloe told him, teasing on how he still refused to say outright those words.
Words were fleeting but the star bearing diamond on her ring didn’t require words to shine.
“Semantics Detective for love is a game as well. One I trust you to never lose,” Lucifer said returning his attention to the crackling fire and domestic tranquillity the evening had to offer.
Early January 2011 - After Midnight
Scotchman’s Cove - Approximately 50 miles from Los Angeles
He was kneeling drenched. There was no breeze to alleviate the scalding aftereffects of having ascended Hell. His vacation was finally starting.
Salted droplets streamed landing on the wet sand where his bare knees rested. The lights of the city afar promised a new beginning yet Lucifer stood rooted by the burdens of his past and the liberating fear for the future.
“Master?” The Demon behind him stammered her reservation of this ash free horizon.
The stars shone, some perhaps recognizing from afar their Creator's presence under them. He had nothing left anymore from what he had once lost but them.
“We played our throw Mazikeen. Let us see where the dice will now land,” he announced the finality his decision had brought upon them.
Lucifer just continued to look in the distance knowing there would be no relief in sight but damn if he would not try to numb his existence with everything humanity had to offer.
“Please reconsider,” Mazikeen tried to appeal to him as if he still had a crownless throne.
“My will is never going to be forced again. Wingless means grounded. It means I’ll never Fall again,” he interjected with a pained smile so familiar to the Demon that she pushed no further.
Shimmering iridescent under the moonlight, Lucifer savoured the last unfurling of his wings. His bones cried to be stretched and take a flight to the alluring night which reminded him so much of a mother’s love, a father’s attention, a soul’s surrender. His.
His, to something that was no more. Nothing was really.
The ring on his finger started to slip and Lucifer fisted his hands calmly placing them on the ground.
“Begin,” he instructed and with fortitude waited the last Act of this low comedy. One of the first certainly, the last if Lucifer had any saying in it.
They had gone through the proceedings, therefore, he knew what would follow. The impending pain though was envisioned as a closure.
The sharp curvature of the Hell forged blade etched his shoulder blade. Ovoid marks bled lightly and in their centre, his wings quivered as if they had a mind of their own. Fearing of their determined fate.
The first piercing came as a relief while the second as torment. In both Lucifer stood motionless not even a breath escaping him, much less a pain filled protest.
No bone would be cut he had instructed her, nothing was to remain within him. Liaisons gave way to Mazikeen’s expert hands with a knife and for that he was thankful.
The only thing that betrayed his anguish was the flowing sweat that was released from every pore of his body.
Soon the tendon had been severed and the humerus was carved away from his body. The scream that echoed in the seaside was followed by an unceremonious plop and a heavy wing shortly lay on the sand as its owner howled.
Lucifer was non wiser as his lungs expanded and hollered for Heaven and Hell to hear as to when the second wing bled out on the treacherous shifting ground.
As soon Mazikeen was finished Lucifer crawled away from her and into the sea. It was an attempt to purify this new two limbs short body for what Los Angeles offered.
The salt tingled on his open wounds, as he skimmed until Lucifer finally felt like joining The Demon at the shore. His feet felt heavy but he mused each difficult step as a toddler's first steps to independence.
“Please let me-“ Mazikeen pleaded in an uncommonly worrisome way but he dismissed her.
“If I wanted a carer I would have gone with a lower Demon. You are not a follower Mazikeen, Maze… Do not forget it,” Lucifer advised her looking for what seemed to be a car approaching.
“I thought we would have waited the whole night,” Maze censured human tardiness, hands opening and closing at her sides where her blades were now kept clean.
“Humans tend to not have a concept of punctuality, but then again nor does Father,” Lucifer remarked watching, brows frowning at the off direction the car was taking.
The car instead of slowing down it sped up until the engine gave away. The smoke from the front and the burned odour intensified as the vehicle crashed on the road’s side and in the soft sand.
“Humans indeed,” Maze agreed picking up his wings to almost religiously wash away the finest grain of sand.
The seconds ticked as the dark SUV that was not what Lucifer had in mind when he made his arrangements for that night stayed still with no human emerging out.
Curious by nature he walked surely at the now slightly fuming car. The interior was dark and Lucifer could not see much even when he reached to peer inside the passenger’s seat.
“Mazikeen!” He ordered sharply still wondering what foolish human laid canned in that car.
Instead of a reply, a wail pierced the confining space of the car.
“Master! Our transport is here!” Mazikeen yelled excitedly carrying effortlessly his severed wings.
There was no conflict, no sympathy as a response to the wails Lucifer was hearing, Hell had plenty of those. But curiosity was an impossible temptation that he had never managed to resist.
Opening the backseat a small human cried its lungs out. He knew the feeling, having only done the same minutes ago.
The child disoriented looked at the open door and when it didn’t see who it was expecting, it hiccuped before breaking into an inconsolable crying fit.
“Master! Lucifer!” Maze called out already half in the car.
Hands in the air hitting the armrest of the small car seat, the child tried to reach him but Lucifer remained unmoving.
“Help me,” he barked at Maze studying the unfortunate woman at the front seat.
“We are helping humans?” She asked him, put out grumbling, practically tearing off the driver’s door.
“We are covering our tracks. The blood at the beach will not disappear within a day,” Lucifer reminded her unbuckling with some difficulty the screaming banshee.
“Yeah, right,” she said dragging the head bleeding woman out of the car and towards the black limousine that had come closer to the crashed car.
“Will you please be quiet!” He admonished to the struggling young toddler.
“Everything all right sir?” The chauffeur offered but Lucifer could spot his pale complexion even in the dark.
“How old is this?” Lucifer asked holding the squirming child from its onesie up in the air for the man to get a better look.
“Ehm. I- I take it for about two?” The man said helplessly getting Lucifer’s eyes to roll at the reply.
Maze dumped the unconscious woman at the front seat under the chauffeur's nervous stare and Lucifer took the child with him at the back seat.
“Can we leave now?” Maze complained getting slowly back to her cheeky self.
“I believe we may,” Lucifer agreed, placing down the child who had calmed down when it saw the severed sticky wings on the limo’s floor.
The ride was peaceful with Maze depleting the car’s liquor bottles in an alarming speed and the child- Well the child was looking at him.
“What passes through your tiny brain?” Lucifer whispered not breaking the staring contest the toddler had begun.
Laid comfortably on Lucifer’s plush wings the child looked enthralled by him.
“Gah!” The child exclaimed falling backwards but never breaking eye contact.
Lucifer cocked his head at the trail his cut wings had left seeping in the child’s clothes. It was a fascinating yet morbid sight.
The child sighed deeply as if warning him. The small mouth opened revealing a series of unevenly spaced teeth and glistering gums before it closed down hard on munching one of his wing's arch.
“Father!” Lucifer exclaimed moving as far as he could from the undisturbed chewing toddler.
“Do younglings eat their own?” Maze wondered with evident eagerness.
“I do not wish to find out!” Lucifer exclaimed worry filling his voice as the small creature coughed spitting some feathers out.
The child’s jaw went slack as it lost interest to the wing she had attempted to devour.
“What is it doing?” Lucifer asked alarmed as the little scavenger took a purposeful crawl towards him.
“Going for the source?” Maze asked bored taking out the last bottle she had not laid waste on.
Lucifer’s bare foot was exposed in an effort to keep the child from coming any closer.
Heel on a tiny shoulder from advancing had the child’s features darken. Its displeasure along with the downy feathers that had stuck on its clothes along with the bristles glued on the smudges of blood over its cheek made Lucifer’s stomach flip.
“Will you take it away?” He begged accent thickening that had the child immediately stop pushing against his foot.
“What is that?” The Demon snickered which made Lucifer scowl.
Mazikeen was becoming more daring and carefree in this world which reminded Lucifer a lot of her mother.
“Class and taste always comes from the original source Mazikeen. A refined accent accompanied by the proper attire gives you command of the space,” He supported his argument pleased that the little demon in attitude creature had fallen on its bum content on just observing him.
“I think it’s ridiculous but sexy,” Maze noted closing her eyes as she savoured the last drops of alcohol the little bar had to offer.
“Well I aim to please,” he said pulling his feet away from the child just in case.
“Aha.” She let a bored half snore and her hand fell on the floor however the toddler remained unfazed.
“What do you think? British, a three-peace and perhaps a hat?” Lucifer asked the eye dropping menace.
“Brrrrprprpr!” The child exclaimed with a drooling raspberry that made Lucifer wince at the amount of saliva flying everywhere.
“Disgusting,” he scolded clicking his tongue but that made no difference.
Staggering on its small hands and knees, the child made it back to the middle of the wings and fell with a defeated sigh on them.
The minutes passed and two light snores made Lucifer roll his eyes for the second time that night. Making sure he would not disturb the equally havoc creating varmints, Lucifer made it stiffly to the front of the car.
Damn his wounds had started to burn again.
Knocking lightly the divider the chauffeur opened it halfway. Enough for them to talk but not disturb or better yet witness what the passengers behind him were doing.
“Rough night?” Lucifer asked lightly ignoring the persistent oozing blood on his back or the gruesome site at the seat he had previously occupied.
“Yeah,” a small voice replied that was nothing like the gruff submitting one the chauffeur had.
“Why don’t you tell me about it then? I know a few things about rough circumstances,” he offered lightly not really knowing where he was going with this. Boredom was the origin of all evil after all.
“I stole a car,” the voice admitted almost too low to be heard waiting for an impending punishment to be delivered.
“I see. You have a young, a handful one,” Lucifer lamented in understanding wishing Maze had never found the liquor for he direly needed some.
“The baby was already in there! I just wanted to help Ricardo, my brother, two good cars and he would be out. He would be safe!” The breaths from the front quickened as panic rose.
“Siblings can indeed be a pain. So that’s what you needed? Money?” Lucifer asked interested on what people were willing to do for them.
“My scholarship failed, he got involved in the wrong crowd. Money sometimes save dreams and lives.” The driver hummed in agreement as Lucifer was left turning his silver ring, deep in thought.
“How much?” He asked simply.
“I just- I just wanted to make something good with my life, escape perhaps I could be a crime solver and now I'm its perpetrator. Tough luck, huh?” The woman said bitterly and Lucifer knew exactly how she felt.
“What if I could make everything go away? Your brother would be safe, you would- What would you do really?” Lucifer curiously urged her to clarify.
“Finish college, major in biology perhaps then apply for that forensic science master on toxicology and ballistics… But if wishes were horses. I mean the Big Guy has never let me down but bad choices and all.” The deep regret was rooted there he could sympathise but the word and meaning of that feeling were completely ignored.
She was a believer and Lucifer had a half mind to let his Father step in although it would be a fat chance in this case. His Father was too judgy on stealing even more so when it involved babies.
“I’ll give you a blank check and you will write the amount you need. Just the amount you need to resolve everything.” Lucifer offered.
Snapping his fingers for the driver he flexed his hand for the cheque book to be placed on his palm. Lucifer knew that there were more than enough tucked in the glove department for his first days.
Little trivia had it that several accountants did end up in Hell. Not behind doors but at secluded little cubicles according to their preference. That served as an odd section of Heaven outsourcing in Hell.
Lucifer never really understood that part but it was a pleasant little place with a lot of valuable information. Like how to build a fortune in a few years according to the past, present and future trends of a logistics-based market.
“Why? What’s the catch? Selling my soul for such a price is not the way I want to go rocky with the Big Guy.” The firm resolution in her voice had Lucifer almost want to take a quick peek of her.
Taking the cheque book from the opening Lucifer scribbled down a blank check making sure his name would never be illegible. However, the custom markings of the check would cash out whatever amount the woman filled it with.
“And stealing is? I’ll give you a bit of advice, better yet a suggestion,” Lucifer said letting the check fall from the opening where he assumed the space between the chauffeur and the woman was.
“If God ever bothers to talk to you, ney give you even a hint of listening you are free on whether to follow. Tonight I’m talking and although I’m a far cry from His ways I only wish you to accomplice what you desire,” he said pleased to hear the check being folded and pocketed.
“No shady deals? No favours?” The woman asked again unsure.
“Call it a freebie I hear they are a hoot on marketing. We do not have nor we will ever have a deal. Now I believe this is your stop,” Lucifer mentioned gently noticing the bright lights of Los Angeles as the car drove through the centre of the city.
The limousine stopped not disturbing the sleeping monster at the back seat and Lucifer waited for the woman to get out of the car. She was petite and dressed in a hoodie and slacks. Just a rebellious kid finding her way he speculated fondly.
The engine started and a small hand slammed on the window waking the child with a piercing frightful scream.
“The baby!? Is she okay?” The woman asked frantically and Lucifer rubbed his temples to soothe the promise of a headache the crying sent rapidly on his way.
“As you can hear more than okay!” Maze yelled covering her ears.
“Just drive please!” Lucifer yelled to the driver who hit the gas leaving the woman holding a piece of jewellery hung from her neck.
“Will you please make it shut.up!?” Maze begged at the sobbing toddler who instead was barely able to take a breath between her wails.
Wings out of the chubby fingers' reach drove Lucifer in his desperation to pluck a velvet contour feather out. Waving it from a safe distance didn't take long until it caught the child’s attention.
Beady eyes followed the motion of the wiggling feather as her little hands opened and closed in anticipation.
“Chap, what do we do with lost younglings?” Lucifer asked the driver letting the feather fall to the grasp of the child trying to avoid any direct contact.
The relieved sigh that escaped the man almost offended Lucifer but he had been held accountable for a lot more.
“The police station sir?” The chauffeur offered and the limousine took a sharp turn almost as if the man was hoping to rid of the child as quickly as possible as the rest of the passengers.
“Ah, law enforcement. Nothing like self-righteous pricks with fancy ideas and corrupt proceedings,” he murmured almost breaking a smile at the child for pretending that the feather could fly within her grasp.
“Master?” The suspicion on Maze’s single word had his features schooled back to impassiveness.
Crossing his arms he waited until the car stopped across the Downtown L.A. Bureau.
“Take it to the entrance Mazikeen,” Lucifer spoke not batting an eye at her discomfort in the prospect to touch the soiled in blood and feathers human.
Examining the simple pink outfit the child was wearing Maze twisted her hand in the fabric and the toddler suspended like a starfish in the air giggled in delight.
“It is deranged,” She claimed with certainty, concocting a plan on how to leave the child without compromising her presence at the building’s busy entrance.
A last raspberry bathed Lucifer’s toes yet instead of recoiling in disgust again he simply waved goodbye. He blamed the unsettling sentimentality he was filled with his violent thrust in the human's world.
Child discarded the limo drove up to the Hollywood Boulevard Lucifer looked with less eagerness the lights of the city.
“M- Lucifer how do you want to dispose of the wings?” Maze asked him almost mournfully.
He stared at them and although they still captivated him, he also felt a flood of self-loathing. Lucifer could not part with them yet, perhaps one day but not tonight.
“I find myself still attached to them Maze,” Lucifer revealed his inner turmoil speaking the truth on more levels than the obvious emotional one.
The dawn came quickly as Lucifer had his first drink of many in his new living quarters overlooking the waking city of Los Angeles.
From that point, the hours passed quickly and time became meaningless again but full of lush distractions. Like a desperate salve application on a never healing bleeding wound.
Early January 2011 - 1:37 AM
Downtown L.A. Police Bureau
They were stealing glances Worried, sympathetic some even judging. Dan was looking around the dimly lit precinct tired and defeated.
He had expected to seek him out but Chloe had surprised him once again. Seated at her desk she was looking through some files with a faraway look.
The long breakdown in the women's room had left only some red welts on her cheeks and puffy eyes. There had been no sound, no questions to be begged.
“It’s only a matter of time,” Rodriguez promised from behind Dan's desk.
The aged lab technician was the only reason he had not collapsed yet. Rodriguez had been in his shoes twice.
“How much longer?” He asked switching off the light at his desk hoping no one would notice.
“Usually hours,” The man replied with a grim smile offering a squeeze at Dan’s tense neck.
“She will not make it,” Dan noted at how Chloe was putting the files away.
“Kidnapping officer kids is not uncommon that’s why the database exists,” Rodriguez said leaving as Chloe approached Dan’s desk barely able to walk, hands embracing her thin body.
The database had been created because one of Rodriguez’s children had never made it back. In a city that never slept like many other metropolitan areas in the country, leverage over the law was hitting its most unsuspecting members. Their families, the children in particular.
Dan had no idea if he would survive the night, he knew Chloe wouldn’t. Trixie had been her lifeline, what grounded and defined her in the past year since her birth.
“We should have put her in there,” Chloe said mumbling the words.
“Everything will be fine.” He couldn’t fool her but when Dan offered her his body to lean on Chloe surrendered whatever strength she had left and welcomed it.
“I just went to take the groceries from the trunk,” she told him for the hundredth time.
“No one blames you,” Dan reminded her but they both knew that was not the problem.
“I do,” she choked seeking any kind of comfort he could provide.
Within the dozen cases, each had closed in the past years the possibilities of finding Trixie were getting slimmer. Drug cartels and murderers were not known for taking into consideration age, only familial ties mattered to exact their vicious revenge.
“Espinoza!” The officer from the reception desk shouted from the stairs.
“Just shoot him,” Chloe begged on his chest making her distaste for the young recruit finally obvious after three months of tight smiles.
“Before or after he hands us, Trixie?” Dan said awestruck by his undisturbed toddler on Morris’ arms.
“What?” She exclaimed turning and coming almost face to face with a toothy smile and two sparkling in recognition eyes.
“How?” Dan asked his stomach filling with dread observing the blood on the child’s clothes.
“One moment the hall was empty and the next she was there looking at me the way your wife does,” Morris said proudly mistaken the shared expression of distrust from mother and daughter as delight.
Chloe buried a now protesting Trixie in her arms that waved furiously her tiny fists in hopes to be set free.
“Is she okay?” Dan asked again squeezing any part of the child he could reach checking for any injuries that would explain the blood.
“Yes,” Chloe said automatically ignoring the now red-faced toddler who was ready to throw a tantrum if that meant being released.
The small hand opened letting a shimmering feather drop on the ground. Chloe refusing to let her daughter stepped quickly to Rodriguez lab as Dan stood watching the fallen feather.
The contrast of white on the black floor was striking.
When Dan joined Chloe and Trixie in the lab the feather was already tucked safely in his pocket. He had no recollection of picking it up but when Dan entered the lab he took a small evidence bag. Placing it carefully inside he then placed it back in his leather jacket’s pocket.
“Let’s put this young lady in the system now okay?” Rodriguez said removing Trixie’s pink onesie.
Both Dan and Chloe knew the dried stains of blood would be later tested in hopes to get to the culprit of the kidnapping. For now, they were relieved that none of it was hers.
Trixie pouted at the needle and let out a sharp cry of displeasure when she was returned to her mother’s arms.
“We can fill out the report tomorrow,” Dan suggested, letting Chloe retreat to her desk and get ready to return back at their home.
“This is odd,” Rodriguez mused as he wrote down the child’s information as a new entry.
“What is?” Dan asked not paying attention as he watched Chloe and Trixie interact with the second trying to take a bite out of her mother’s blazer. She was getting hungry.
“Are you sure that’s Trixie?” Rodriguez asked in hesitation swaps placed carefully on Petri dishes.
“I believe I know my own child, man.” Dan chuckled anxiety slipping slowly off his body.
Rodrigues looked at Dan again and slowly closed the lab’s door.
“There are many stages of putting a sample in the database but the most essential one is a simple blood test to determine the type. Something is wrong my boy,” the older man said looking intensely at him.
“I do not understand,” Dan joked uncomfortably.
“You are O, positive Rhesus. I have your file right here along with Chloe’s. Chloe is A negative Rhesus,” Rodrigues explained showing him the red cycles on each file at his monitor screen.
“And the problem is?” Dan asked eager to leave the precinct and if possible to never let Trixie out of his sight.
“That child’s blood type is AB positive. Three clotted egg whites out of four in the Petri.”
“I still do not-.” Dan swallowed thickly looking back to the tiny person who had started to fuse.
“We can run a DNA test but there is no way- I know that girl since her father run the department she wouldn’t - couldn't - but this is conclusive. I-I’m sorry,” Rodrigues still rambled when Dan opened the door.
Hand laid on the lab's door frame, Dan turned in obvious bewilderment standing idle and trying to form the words.
“Don’t. Just- Just keep it to yourself. Please,” he begged the technician grabbing his car keys from the lab counter.
Chloe was too engrossed on Trixie to notice his silence and for that Dan was thankful.
Since the child had been born they had assumed she took after his father’s side. A Mexicana through and through Dan’s mother had exclaimed in delight looking at the infant’s almost solid dark eyes.
Only the steady swallows of the toddler were heard on the ride home and Dan racked his brain over every single one of them.
“Do you remember Peachtree St case?” Dan croaked a cough finding his throat dry.
“You think they were behind this?” Chloe wondered her focus still on the slowly drifting to sleep toddler.
“It would not be beneath them for sure,” he replied, trying to ask what he had requested to know only once before.
“Perhaps we should find a better neighbourhood. A safer one. When Trixie was born there was this great one. Good schools, nice people.” Chloe said holding closer a nuzzling Trixie.
He wanted to push for answers but he knew she would not be the source of a definite answer. Rodriguez, on the other hand, had been. The rest of the ride was quiet. No more words were exchanged there was no point, only a decision to be taken.
The hours ticked away finding him in bed where sleep refused to claim him. Even the night felt hotter somehow, uncomfortable. That was probably its very definition. With his restlessness grown Dan finally found in an exhaustion infused haze, unlike solace in the nursery where the temperature is always fixed.
A soft yawn alerted him and so he could no longer escape reality. The child was awake and its soulful browns were now looking expectantly at him.
Complying Dan picked her up where she decided to resettle in his arms. With tiredness finally catching up with them they snuggled in the nursery's armchair ready to acknowledge that a new day had come, even if sleep had not.
“What am I going to do?” He vocalised his misery in the empty space.
The weight on his chest is the same so is the warm breath that hits his old faded shirt. Tiny fists tighten their hold on the almost tattered cloth and Trixie then decides to mumble gibberish. An account of her night's adventures perhaps.
How can everything be the same and totally different?
A small hand rises and falls. Plumb cherub lips form an 'oh' and her eyes go wide. More blubbering follows much to his amusement.
“All that huh?” Dan asks her smirking at her sudden serious expression.
A seriously delivered raspberry finally signals the end of the story.
“Oh, monkey.” He laments the nickname Chloe had used for her since Trixie was born, a tribute to her late father.
If he was apprehensive to use it before it doesn't show now. Legacies are a good thing and this feels like one.
“Thaaaaa,” she replies bored eyes closing as the first light enters through the room.
As Dan watches Morpheus reclaiming the child in the morning light things seem clearer. More defined if possible.
A decision has been reached. His marriage is already strained but the child in his arms and the woman sleeping in the next room are what matter now. How he feels and what he has created with them. A family.
Father and daughter are slowly illuminated under the rise of the morning star and then the Sun appears on the horizon. It's the first day of the many that will come and time cannot be fleeting or meaningless.
“Perhaps the ultimate freedom is not the freedom to leave,” Dan spoke to a now sleeping Beatrice.
“Perhaps, just perhaps it’s the freedom to stay.”
The End