Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chloe stared at the elevator doors, frustration and exhaustion weighing on her as it rose to the top floor of Lux.

Halloween was a stressful time of year for most professions, but when people started dying, Chloe really wished she could take a second to breathe. She couldn't, of course, when she was interrogating suspects, arranging Trixie's costume and trick-or-treating, Maze moving in and getting on her nerves and worrying about her partner.

Because she's been doing that a lot lately in regards to Lucifer. Especially today. He was erratic and impulsive, she knew. He partied and drank and did drugs and did whatever suited him, and she could hardly predict what was going to come out of his mouth next besides them being along the lines of innuendo's and witty- if severely inappropriate- jokes.

But he hadn't been like this in a long time- smoking evidence, obviously drunk and continuing to drink on the job. Something was wrong, that's all she could think. Something was wrong and she didn't know what, and her job and her life didn't give her the time to breathe and think deeper into it when a bride was dead and Lucifer was acting like none of it mattered.

No, that's not exactly true, is it? Every kill must be punished, said as seriously as ever, his eyes hard, though red-rimmed and possible evidence poured into his glass. A homeless magician, she'd called him.

But he definitely wasn't going about it the right way, in whatever state he was in.

When she turned around he was making out with a witness and dragged him back to the precinct the devil-may-care attitude he'd adopted more aggressively than usual dropped into the angsty and guarded mask she never quite got used to. He wouldn't talk to her, even though she tried, and he dismissed her concern with the sudden loss of his...well his everything. His grin, his cunning, his glee for life. He terrorized a suspect, broke into the precinct vending machine, pushed her away again, and punched Dan.

There's a lot of things that I didn't want to do.

It was too much.

So she sent him home.

And she was pissed off. He was acting so inappropriately, so immature, but he was hurting right now in a way she'd never seen, a way she didn't know with him, but she knew one thing when he stormed away. She knew he was grieving. For what or who, she didn't know, but he was acting out because he couldn't handle his emotions and no one ever bothered to look deeper after he pushed them away by being an asshole.

Then the whole...sniper thing.

You don't know a thing about what I am, Detective, or what I've done.

You can't understand, Detective. And you never will.

That led to the elevator sounding her arrival at an hour much too late for her to handle any serious conversation with Lucifer in his mystery state of impulse and darkness, but here she was. Because she was tired, but she cared, and she knew Lucifer drowned himself in drugs and booze and sex instead of talking even though she knew Linda was trying her damnedest. 

It seemed to be a constant uphill battle.

Actually, battle seemed like an accurate description for Lucifer's life right now. The penthouse looked like a warzone. Her eyes first found themselves on his piano after her eyes adjusted to the initial darkness of the room, the stool toppled sideways and a full tray of cigarette butts spilling across the glossy top. As she took her first step onto the floor, she saw bottle after bottle scattered across the room, empty and tipped over, shattered and cracked, puddles of foul-smelling alcohol pooling into his expensive carpets and tiles.

"Lucifer?" She called, but got no response.

Concern and worry rapidly growing, Chloe's gaze searched the rest of the penthouse, seeing the wall of liquor almost empty, his bed's sheets spilling onto the floor, and the balcony doors wide open. 

She followed the trail of broken bottles and strewn clothes- was there blood on that shirt? Was he okay?-  and stopped short when she saw a small form wrapped in the dim lights from the city below. Lucifer was hunched against a wall, shoulders bent inwards, his knees nearly drawn all the way to his chest, shirtless she noted, with his arms crossed over them as if they had no weight attached. His head was tipped backwards, curls disheveled and sticking up every way.

There was something so...wrong about it. He was Lucifer, the eccentric man larger than all life, with raving parties and a cheeky glint in his eyes and a crooked tilt of his lips when he smiled, actually smiled. Like when she made him laugh or gave him a genuine compliment and he got a little uncomfortable but looked at her with awe.

This was not that Lucifer. He hadn't been for the past few days.

"Lucifer." She murmured, quietly enough she hardly heard herself, but his head lolled to the side when she spoke, widening when he saw her, but not glinting. His lips turned up, but not really smiling. Chloe saw the gleam of his eyes, the glitter of tears clear with the bold smudges beneath each eye, but it wasn't the same as his mischievous sparkle with the almost dead look in his eyes now, vacant and hollow. Hurt. There were no tracks of makeup on his cheeks, but tears had clearly run down them.

"Ah, Detective! Fancy seeing you here!" He exclaimed, voice broken and raw, forced in all the wrong ways. He tried to sit up, hands planted on the ground beneath him, but any momentum he had gained dropped back to the ground when he hissed and pulled his hands close. Chloe only saw a glint of blood before she was rushing to his side, ignoring the crunch of glass beneath her shoes as she used her toe to swipe away the glass surrounding him. She crouched down, not wanting to sit in the disaster zone.

"Lucifer." She said, and she didn't know if she was chastising him or not, but she pulled his hand into hers to inspect the damage. Small glittering splinters stuck out of his palms, small dots of blood swelling from his wounds. Her chest ached with worry. "Where's your first aid?" She asked, but he waved her off, literally, with the hand she had been holding. He didn't even look at them when he hung them back over his knees.

"Don't worry, Detective, I'll be good as new tomorrow. You needn't worry, darling." He smirked, the expression hardly mimicking his usual bravado when his eyes could hardly meet hers.

"Lucifer, it could get infected-"

"I'm fine." His expression had fallen, hard and guarded as he turned his eyes skywards. Here it is, she sighed. He's pushing you away. Again.

"You're not fine, Lucifer." Chloe whispered, taking off her leather jacket to lay beneath her before she properly sat down. She did not want to be digging glass out of her ass tonight. "You haven't been since Halloween, or whatever happened before that. Something's going on and you're not telling me. You're not okay, Lucifer." She crossed her legs and drew them close, watching his eyes wander over nothing. "I'm here. Please, talk to me."

He only stared at the sky. Searching for what? She could not imagine.

"I miss them." He murmured a few tense moments later instead of an explanation, his Adam's apple bobbing after he spoke.

"Who?" She asked gently, watching him for any hint of what he was going through. A tear rolled down his cheekbone, following the trail set before it.

"My stars."

She looked up then, for the first time seeing what he was looking at. It's a bit cloudy, sure, but she could still see some constellations, like Orion's belt and the little dipper among the smog, but not much more even this high up.

"They're right there, Lucifer." She tried to say, but he shook his head strongly even before she was done speaking.

"No, no, no those are not my stars, darling. Those are pathetic whispers of their glory. You humans have polluted this world in irredeemable ways- you can't even see a fraction of what I created. There are more than you can count, Detective, but you can't see them here- or hardly anywhere. You can't see my stars." His voice broke, his chin clenched even as it wobbled. "Oh, what have I done, Detective? What did I do?" Finally, his eyes trailed to her, rimmed with red and bloodshot, but she didn't know if it was just from crying or him getting high earlier.

"I don't know, Lucifer." She spoke quietly, knowing this was a rare moment of vulnerability, even when wrapped in his metaphors and delusions. "You won't tell me."

He shook his head, lips drawing down in the beginnings of a sob. "I...oh, Dad, why?" He sucked in a sharp breath, propping his elbow on his leg to plant his head in his hand, not even reacting to the glass embedded there. Chloe winced, unable to do anything when a fresh look of horror passed over his beautiful features, now harsh in his agony.

Tears made the few stars he could see swim in his sight.

"My brother. I would...he was younger than me- most of us, really." He swallowed thickly, staring at the lights of the city through the glass barrier absentmindedly. Those little city lights were more accurate than the sky, and that made that ugly thing in his chest twist.

Chloe didn't know what his brother had to do with it, but she was quickly thinking he wasn't talking about Amenadiel.

"He loved puzzles- patterns and consequences, he loved them. When I was creating the universe, he popped in to watch the stars. We'd push him away a lot, he was annoying. Tattled on to dad when we did, wanted to be his righteous hand, Light of God, and all that, but...I didn't push him away that time. He helped me make my stars. We threaded them through the universe, dotted them with our fingertips..." He waved his hand in front of him, reaching for the sky so far from his touch. Without his wings, he'd never see them the same again. He hadn't since he fell, since he was forced through their bodies to the bowels of Hell. Dad, did he wish he could fly among them, just one last time...

Chloe didn't know where this was going or where it came from, but she knew Lucifer had a way of circling the question like a shark until he reached his inevitable point. Hearing the waver in his voice, the cracks in his expression, Chloe figured she could be patient.

"His patterns made the constellations, his puzzles made the planets- you humans gave them stories, despite what I said, but...no one listens anyways." He sighed shakily, arm dropping limply at his side. "That was the first time I felt like his brother, like it meant something, and I..." He buried his face in his hands, nails reaching to tug at his hair. "Oh, Dad, it's all my fault. He was my brother, and I- how could I do that to him? He's dead, and- He was my brother." He took the pile of broken glass beside him, clenched it in his fist, and threw it at the wall, his bleeding hand winding itself right back in his hair afterwards. "HE WAS MY BROTHER!" He roared as tears stained his skin, chest heaving like he'd run a marathon while his eyes flashed dangerously in the limited light.

"Oh, Lucifer." Chloe said, chest tight with sympathy, at the grief tearing her partner apart. Her hand twitched to touch him, reassure him. "Did you...were you there when it happened?"

"It was my fault, Detective." He croaked, casting his eyes away from her.

"I know... I know it feels that way, but-"

"You don't understand, Chloe, it was me. I killed him."

"Lucifer -" she tried to touch his shoulder but he shot up, stumbling away from her with his hands gripping his hair, blood dripping down the grooves of the veins on his forearms. Chloe couldn't believe it. Lucifer was violent, yes, but a murderer? She couldn't see it, let alone his family, his brother. She understood blaming yourself though. She knew it all too well.

"It was me. I killed him. It's my fault, it's my- my- he was my BROTHER!"

And then he looked as if he'd been burned alive.

This was no trick of the light. No reflection is warped windows or glass, no flash of a camera or hologram. This was real.

"Oh my God."

Lucifer whipped around, face contorted in misery, making the burning eyes and charred skin all the more gruesome to look at. An instinct, deep and old within her, told her to run. Runrunrun run from the devil before he drags you down to hell. She felt her guilt swimming, pulling, drawing her towards him, towards her fear, the monster.

"Yeah, that was the bloody idea. For once this has everything to do with Him."

Monster.

"Oh my God." She stared, mouth gaping at the pure fury in his words, at the growl she could feel in her spine, at the sight that was fresh from her worst nightmares.

It was then that he noticed what she was staring at.

"Bloody hell." He sobbed, turning away from her, a hand coming up to shield his face, and she saw that that was burned too, an angry red that charred and peeled into skin and muscle glistening with pain, adorned with thick black claws that gleamed in the moonlight. Lucifer choked and fell to his knees, shoulders shaking while he pressed his palms into his eyes, curling into himself, away from her.

Away from her.

"Of course. Dad's always though he was funny, even though we all bloody well know he isn't-" he continued to ramble to himself, voice raw even when muffled by his hands, and Chloe finally got enough wits about her to look at him. Lucifer. Her partner. Her friend. The self-proclaimed Devil that dealt in deals and could pick locks in less than a second and pull the desires out of almost anyone.

The devil.

She thought of that very face reflected in the glass as he growled at Jimmy Barnes...then survived multiple bullets that should have killed him.

How he seemed to teleport sometimes, pulled the bullet from his pocket...

Malcolm. Malcolm shot him, Lucifer died, and yet...

His scars. His wings. Lucifer's wings behind glass, flesh and muscle still attached, shining and glowing in a way that shouldn't be possible. Carmen Grant begging Lucifer not to take them away, she hadn't been able to look...

Here he was. The real, actual, living-

The devil cried into his hands, moaning in ways she'd never imagined coming from him, heartbroken with despair.

And she found she couldn't see anyone else but her partner. Her partner was the devil now, sure, but- but he always had been, hadn't he? Just as he had always been her friend. And he was in pain, grieving, and he was letting her see him like this.

Before she even knew what she was doing, Chloe crawled forward and wrapped her arms around his shoulders from his side, pulling him towards her until his head was against her sternum. She held him, gentle but strong, and began rocking side to side like she did after Trixie had a nightmare.

"D-detective?" He whispered, his hoarse voice cracking on the title. His neck strained as he tried to look up.

"I'm here, Lucifer. I'm here." She murmured, pressing her lips against his scalp, trying not to flinch when she was met with hot, fresh skin instead of his curly hair.

"Oh." He breathes, shifting to drop his head between her neck and shoulder, a shaky sigh leaving him soon after. It took a few moments before his watery voice sounded again. "I'm sorry, Chloe. I only wanted to protect you. I-I'm so sorry."

"I know. I know, Lucifer, it's okay." She didn't know. She didn't know anything, she didn't know if it was okay, she didn't- he said he'd killed someone. His brother, Uriel. Uriel the angel? The actual angel? Of- what, prophecy?

She felt so helpless. She had no idea what was going on other than the devil was real. Heaven and God and Hell was real. Her partner was the supposed root of all evil, and here he was, crying in her arms. She didn't know anything except the sway of her body and the tremble of Lucifer's shoulders.

Two arms slowly crept around her torso, and she held him closer to encourage his search for comfort. She decided it didn't matter. Not now- she could ask questions later. Right now Lucifer needed someone, needed her. Needed her not to push him away.

She felt him squeeze her, hold her tight, his embrace much warmer than the last time she'd hugged him, crying, because he'd said her father would be proud of her. 

Jesus Christ-

Wrong deity, I'm afraid. Bloody stick in the mud, he was. Though his wine was quite good.

God-

Don't bring him into this.

All this time-

Lucifer sobbed again, breathing heavily against her skin, and she pushed all other thoughts away for later. 

She could do everything else...later.

🪽

When Chloe stepped into his penthouse, the constant ache in his chest seemed to triple, his pain becoming harder and harder to bury as the alcohol hit him tenfold, making his head swimmy and nauseous in a way his grief somehow hadn't managed.

Her presence was both a balm and a grate against his soul, her voice and warmth soothing the pain his vulnerability around her brought up.

Then he'd gotten riled up, and she wouldn't believe him, and before he even knew it was happening his Devil Face had appeared and she...

She hadn't run away.

She'd been shocked, and he'd seen the fear, the utter horror in his gaze before hiding himself away the best he could, but then- then she'd wrapped her arms around him so soothingly, told him it was okay, she was okay and she-

She hadn't run.

Now, though, after coaxing him into the penthouse with an arm around his waist, Chloe sat him on his coach (miraculously saved of broken glass and alcohol) and squeezed him before crouching in front of him to meet his eyes- still filled with hellfire, mind you. He couldn't get rid of it, no matter how hard he tried. And he really had, he would rather not have her changing her mind and run away screaming.

"Where do you keep your first aid?"

"Under the bathroom sink, behind the extra shampoo." He murmured, hating the way he sounded; so weak, an audible representation of his vulnerability and utter brokenness.

"Okay." She said, just as quietly. She stood, and when his head whipped up dizzyingly to follow her, she smiled a bit sadly. Why was she sad? "I'll be right back, I'm just going to get some stuff to pick the glass out of your hands."

Glass? Looking down, he could hardly see the drying blood trailing down his arms and pooling in his hands among his already red and burned skin. But in his hands he saw glints of shiny splinters. Ah, yes, the glass. That he grabbed, and threw. In fact, there was probably some in his hair as well...

Reaching to touch his shoulder, she squeezed it gently before turning around and stepping up the stairs to his bedroom, subsequently leading to his bathroom. He heard her bumbling about in his cabinets and let himself fall into his couch cushions, his burning eyes closer at the sudden exhaustion pulling him. Though it wasn't that sudden, really, because he's been feeling this bone-deep, prickling feeling of tiredness holding him for quite some time now. 

However his heavy eyes and buzzing body came about (alcohol was also a possibility, especially if it hit him like a particularly motivated truck once the Detective arrived) he was now letting it weigh on his chest, his palms upturned beside his thighs while his acute hearing focused on his Detective. Chloe Decker, the most extraordinary w̶o̶m̶a̶n̶ human he had ever met. His love for her knew no bounds but his own hubris and debauchery. She was incredible, truly and wholly (and holy, but he preferred not to give him credit) one of a kind, the only thing on his mind most of the time. (Even with his brothers cooling blood in his hands, it had been for her. All for her. Always for her.)

So lost in his thoughts, his absent knowledge of Chloe's whereabouts were fickle and not his main focus, so he startled when her hand landed on his knee and he opened his eyes to see her concerned expression in return. A dim light was also turned on, his lamp he assumed.

"Don't fall asleep yet." Was all she said, sitting on his right side and taking his hand (normal, he noted. Slightly tanned and hairy, his onyx ring glinting in her palm) Chloe hovered a pair of tweezers over his hand, glancing up at him with shining eyes. "You ready?"

"Born ready, darling." He grinned, but by the furrow of her brow, he suspected he showed too many teeth, or had too many tears still in his eyes. Regardless, she blew out a breath and started her career as a nurse. Her bedside manner was incredible, he'd give her that. And look, she was even smiling now!

"Stay still, Lucifer." She chided quietly when he tried to lean towards her. Her kindness, her gentle hands, her warmth. Startlingly, he obeyed, rolling his read along the back of his couch to watch her, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders and partially getting in the way of her face as she worked. Her left cheek was slightly indented where she was biting it now, and her dark eyebrows drew together in concentration.

He felt such fondness for her, more than he should, he knew. But she meant so much to him, her stubborn determination and endless care hopelessly endearing.

Lucifer thought of all she had done for him, and all he would do for her. All that he has done for her. His brother's face, pained and shocked, raising from where Azrael's blade stuck out of him to its wielder. "I didn't see that coming..." How heavy his body had been in his arms, how cold his skin had been against his...

And Chloe, wonderful, beautiful Chloe, his Detective, here, tending to his wounds even after seeing his Devil Face, after he had confessed to the murder of his own brother...

She should know. She deserved to know.

"He was going to kill you." He said abruptly, still watching her, so he saw her shoulder's jump at the sudden sound of his scratchy voice. Her eyes shot up to his, wide and filled with questions. Never slowing down, his clever detective.

"What?" She blinked, gaze searching his face for answers in his lack of words.

"My brother. U-Uriel. He was going to kill you, and mum. He had the blade, but I didn't hav- it was the quickest choice I could think of. You were in danger, and he..." Lucifer's eyes burned, but no more tears came. "I killed him." He repeated softly, something in him wondering if she had missed it the first time, if that was why she was still here. But she still cradled his hand in her lap, still looked at him with such care and worry, and she didn't bloody run.

"Mum-? You killed him to protect me?" She clarified, seeming to ignore his other statement, but it didn't really seem like a question, her eyes so set and sure of the truth.

"Yes." I would do anything for you.

"I...I won't thank you for killing your brother, but...thank you for protecting me. I wish you hadn't had to do it, but..." Chloe shrugged and tucked her hair behind her ear. "I'm glad to be alive, and I'm glad you're here too. I'm sorry you felt like that was your only option."

His wide eyes were transfixed on her, awe swelling within him at her words that seemed so simple when that same utterance of him having a choice and making that choice had reduced him to a disastrous mess.

"You're not... why aren't you afraid?"

"Oh, I'm terrified." Chloe said with a breathy laugh held without humor. As he hunched his shoulders though, her tone softened again. "But not of you."

"How?" He pleaded, leaning forward, getting closer, daring her to back away. Run. "I'm the bloody devil, how are you not-"

"Because you would never hurt me. You never have- well. Not intentionally. And never physically. You're not evil, Lucifer, I know that much."

"I've done horrible, despicable things Detective! I've tortured souls for eons, tried every drug known to man, I am the thing that entire countries have feared in the name of Dad! I am evil incarnate! I killed my brother!"

His eyes flashed red, and she sucked in a sharp breath through her nose, but leaned forward instead of flinching away at the hellfire in his eyes.

"And you did that to protect the people you care about. You may have done bad things, Lucifer, but I believe you did them for good reasons. You care about people, you help people all the time. You're so fucking kind but so good at hiding it behind your jokes and innuendo's that people forget how honest you are. I trust you, Lucifer. You're not malicious, you punish evil- literally. You right injustice and strive for equality. In the time that I've known you, you've been violent, sure, but never- never evil."

Lucifer's eyes were shining, no longer burning with the fires of hell, but with a broken intensity that gripped her heart.

"But..."

"Why would I be afraid, Lucifer?" She knew, logically, why, but there was a difference in what the world had to say about the devil and what he had to say about himself.

"Dr. Linda." He winced at his own words, eyes downcast. "I revealed my unsavory side to her tonight as well."

"What?"

"You said to talk to her, Detective, and, well- She kept asking. Tired of my bloody 'metaphors' and- well, I showed her. Just a peak. She didn't scream but...she didn't look at me either." He cast his gaze aside, a curl falling into his eyes. "I don't blame her. I just wish..." His eyebrows furrowed, his deep gaze falling back on her. "But you're still here."

"You're my friend, Lucifer." She held his gaze in her own steadfast and sturdy one. "Devil or not, you are my partner. You've saved my life more times than I'd like to think about. You babysit my daughter, and she adores you. You despise injustice and punish those who harm others. You are one of the most thoughtful, protective, and kind people I have ever met. You have your flaws, yes, but everyone does. That is no reason to hate or fear you. You are my friend, I care about you." Chloe set his hand in her lap and put both of her hands on his biceps, holding his arms that was so intentional and meaningful it hurt. "You're not evil, and I'm not going anywhere unless you want me to, okay?"

For the hundredth time that night, Lucifer could do nothing but stare. He was lost in those blue eyes, swimming with the conviction only she could manage.

"Okay." He breathed into the silence, uncertain if he had said anything at all in his astonishment, but she gave him a nod like she understood, squeezed his arms one last time, and took his hand back in her own. Before she returned to her task of freeing his existence as a pincushion, she looked back to him, head tilted in consideration.

"Will you tell me about your stars?" She asked, entirely sincere. Lucifer felt his chest flutter in that annoying way it tended to do in his detectives presence, but he let it consume him just like every time before. The devil smiled, as easily as he could, and relaxed his back against his couch.

"Certainly, Darling."

With a raise of his arm, he implored her to envision his creations, weaving stories just as he had his universe, scattering jokes just as he had done with his stars, and not once did he glance out the window where they're hidden beauty mocked him.

He had his favorite star beside him, after all, with the sky in her eyes.