Seventh story in the Lucifer's Flock series! This one is the story a lot of people were waiting for. Lucifer learning to fly again. There is a side fic involving Linda and the psychiatrist here that I will be putting up between chapters 3 and 4. Just a heads up. It's called 'Reality'.

Learn To Fly

Pacing his way from one side of the office to the other, Lucifer couldn't get past that, as soon as his session was over that afternoon, he'd be going to a remote bit of forest clearing Maze had found for him last week and begin flying.

Linda watched, knowing how nervous and afraid he was of the upcoming activities and to her credit, she didn't try to calm him down.

She just let him pace her room.

His wings were glued to his back in anxiety. His arms were crossed over his chest just as tight. He was unable to speak through the lump of fear caught in his throat.

Every now and then Linda would look at her watch to keep track of the time, before writing something down in his file. Usually her writing down things during their sessions didn't bother him, but he was a bit more paranoid today then he normally was, and he knew she generally wrote little, but what needs to be said about his emotional state.

Of course, his emotional state right then could be equated to a nuclear explosion waiting to happen.

He just wanted to get there already and not make a total fool of himself in front of his flock.

"Lucifer," Linda stated, as if hearing his thoughts. "Time's up."

He stopped pacing, took a deep, cleansing breath and rushed out the door. He was halfway down the corridor and was being openly stared at by someone waiting for another psychiatrist before he remembered quite suddenly that he hadn't put his wings away.

At least Amenadiel had taught him how to bring them on this plane without shredding a shirt. That was something. He could have scandalised people by being shirtless.

"Uh, hello! Fear not. I come in peace? Linda!"

Linda turned the corner, saw someone else there, his wings still out and sighed at him. He felt like he was about to be smacked for bad behaviour. He shifted, his wings rustling in agitation, flaring slightly in the small corridor.

The man gasped and fell to his knees. A door opened and this time it was a psychiatrist staring openly at him. He face palmed.

Linda took in the scene and saved his arse by making the sudden decision of not using his name now and using his abbreviated old one instead. "Sam, put those away, you're scaring the locals."

He blinked at her, because he was suddenly very unsure of exactly how to do that. He closed his eyes, concentrated and he felt as they slipped back into the plane he normally kept them on. He turned to the man and his psychiatrist. "Sorry! I'll pay for the bills if you feel like you're going insane. My wings can do that to people."

The two strangers kept staring intently at him. Linda sighed loudly behind him. "I have to work here, you know? Yes! He's an angel. They exist. God exists. Sam here is a bit nervous right now, because we're about to start doing some active work with a phobia of his. He did not mean to freak you all out by flashing his wings."

He coughed to catch her attention, looking at his watch. "Linda! We're going to be late!"

"Well, if someone had decided not to rush out of my room like they were on fire..."

He winced at that. 'Ooh, low blow, doctor. Come on, the others will be waiting."

And, now with his wings safely hidden out of sight from curious mortals, he made his way as fast as he could, to where his car was waiting. He began pacing as he waited for Linda to catch up.

As soon as they were both in the car and speeding their way to the set destination, Linda turned to him and frowned. "Alright, after this is over for today, you are going to talk to me. Tell me why you did what you just did and then we are going to have a proper session. "

He grimaced, because he didn't know if he could explain it in words at all, but he nodded his consent to that anyway. Right now he was too worried to do much of anything else but concentrate on the road and push thoughts of falling out of his head.

It was going to be a long afternoon.