The Beginning of the End

10. Denial

At that same time a couple blocks over, Dr. Linda Martin confidently strolled through the dark and empty night club. The cleaning crew had already finished and nobody was hanging around from the night before. All was quiet.

She rode the elevator up to the private penthouse. If Linda was being honest with herself, she was excited to see her old friend and most interesting patient again, but also incredibly nervous to discover what three years in Hell had done to their progress. Who knows, maybe he'd surprise her and continued to stay open to his emotions while being in the pits of despair for three years.

As the door slid open with a ding, Linda gasped to find out that she was pretty wrong.

Saying that the extravagant penthouse was trashed was an understatement. The place was demolished.

It was dark to begin with. The black curtains remained closed, blocking out any morning sunlight, and no lights glowed except for the back-lit bar. Glass lay in broken bits all over the floor with mysterious liquid drenching the shimmering pieces. The strong scent of alcohol burned her nose, making it slightly harder to breathe. Furniture had been flipped over, shredded, and split in half. Large holes randomly dotted walls, where she assumed they had been punched. Then there was the piano. It took her breath away; the only reason why she had realized that it was the piano is because the pile of demolished wood was in the place of where Lucifer's beautiful instrument used to stand. Now, it was a heaping pile of splinted tan wood, black and white bars, and curling cord. Hardly recognizable.

Linda straightened herself and cleared her throat. She confidently called out into the dark, "Lucifer? I know you're here. It's Linda."

She slowly strode toward what remained of the golden Italian leather couches and peered around. She heard a rustling in front of her and slightly to her right. It was coming from the bedroom, she realized.

Her breath caught in her throat as she saw two glowing red dots in the short distance.

"Doctor?" She heard the familiar British accent call, although his voice was a bit rougher than what she was used to. 

"What're you doing here?" He asked, confusion present in his tone.

Linda took a deep breath, carefully maneuvering the mess on the floor, and answered, "Amenadiel told me you were back. I thought we could talk."

The red dots turned away and she was only able to see the slightest bit of one now. Linda realized that they weren't dots at all but Lucifer's eyes.

He didn't respond for a while, but she didn't hear any other movement either. Then he said, "You should go, Doctor. I'm not in any mindset to be around humans right now."

His tone sounded remorseful, sad or guilty even. It broke Linda's heart.

"The fact that you acknowledge that means you're in enough control now, even if you might not have been earlier." She stated softly to encourage him to come out.

She heard him sigh and the glowing red eyes disappeared. There was more rustling, like the sound of sheets being pushed back, and then there came the faint sound of footsteps.

Linda heard a click and was momentarily blinded by the bedroom lights being turned on. Once her eyes had adjusted, she saw Lucifer leaning against the wall in the doorway to his bedroom looking like, well, hell.

His normally perfectly slicked back dark hair was sticking up at odd ends all over the place and it even looked a little greasy. He was without a jacket or vest, and his white shirt was all the way unbuttoned, one of it's sleeves was sloppily rolled up to his elbow and the other hung unbuttoned at his wrist. His stubble was slightly longer than she remembered it. He seemed unnaturally tired and sick, but his body was tense as he stood, reminding Linda of a cornered animal that would attack at her slightest movement. He wore a smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes. His smile was scary, predatory even. It didn't sit well with Linda.