Chapter Text
Lucifer Morningstar is a mystery wrapped up in an enigma, always dressed in impeccable suits with his majestic hair and his dazzling grin that can light up the Sun. Even though he’s only been a civilian consultant for the LAPD and her partner for a couple of months, he is unequivocally - and quite annoyingly - the best partner Chloe has ever worked with.
And yet, beyond his constant claims of being the real-life Devil and the religious metaphors he uses as coping mechanisms for what she thinks must be complex PTSD… Chloe realizes that she barely knows anything about him at all.
It doesn’t take Chloe very long to figure out that Lucifer is nothing like the party and sex-obsessed pretentious millionaire playboy she expected to have to tolerate after their first case together. He drinks excessively, yes, and he doesn’t hide the fact that he regularly partakes in recreational drugs. But Lucifer is actually far more reserved and introverted than he outwardly portrays. He’s handsome and rich, and owns a successful nightclub that rakes in money - but he doesn’t actually go clubbing himself, only coming down from his penthouse to check on his staff, help with inventory, or grab his own alcohol to take upstairs.
All manners of people throw themselves at him when he does appear in LUX, desperate for sex, and yet Lucifer gently turns them down and sets them up with others. Yes, Lucifer is confident and charismatic, and he flirts with her outrageously, but Chloe has weirdly never felt as if he’s aiming to have sex with her. Which is shocking, really, considering the dirty jokes and innuendos that he gleefully teases her with.
In fact, it feels to her as if his flirting with people is almost defensive, his way of keeping people at arm’s length while charming them enough to endear them to him, so he can do his… desire mojo thing. The thing that doesn’t work on her, for whatever reason. Maybe because she fails to be fooled by the mask he puts on.
There are other strange things about Lucifer as well. He owns an ostentatious number of classic and expensive cars, his beloved Corvette the pride of his collection. Chloe has seen them all in his private garage beneath LUX when parking there herself to speak to him or pick him up on the way to crime scenes. And yet… Lucifer doesn’t drive. She checks his records, and he has a valid license. But he won’t get behind the wheel of a car, no matter what. Then, he also has a beautiful grand piano in his penthouse, that he never touches or plays, simply eyes longingly, as if there’s something holding him back.
Lucifer brushes off her inquiring questions about his cars and piano, flashing her dazzling smiles that take her breath away, and damn it, it’s really not fair how he can so easily set her heart aflutter when he can be such an asshole sometimes.
But he’s an asshole who knows her coffee order off by heart when nobody else has ever bothered to remember it, and is kind to her daughter even though he’s scared of kids, and encourages her to believe in herself and trust her instincts, never putting her down or making her ashamed for being less than one hundred percent perfect at all times. Lucifer is stubborn and arrogant and an idiot, but he’s considerate and respectful and altruistic, especially when it comes to her.
So yeah. Chloe might not be… completely repulsed by him on a chemical level, as she claimed prior.
And finally… there’s something wrong with Lucifer’s back.
What precisely is wrong with his back continues to elude her. And that’s because Lucifer categorically refuses to appear shirtless in front of anybody, so nobody, including her, has seen his bare torso. He’s vain as hell, stupidly proud of his physical appearance, and fully aware of what a pretty boy he is, and he’ll enthusiastically whip out his dick at any available opportunity… but Lucifer won’t ever take off his shirt to expose his back.
There is definitely something wrong with it, though. He despises people walking up behind him in his blind spot so his back is open and vulnerable, to the point where he’ll whip around and glare venomously at the person approaching him. He jolts like a skittish animal if someone even brushes against him, shoulders tensed and his lip curled up in a snarl.
And if somebody actively tries to touch his back?
Well.
Dan attempts that when congratulating them on him and Chloe closing a case within three days; he typically claps everybody on the back in a friendly, affirmative way, so it’s not abnormal. But the moment his hand makes contact with Lucifer’s suit jacket, just over his right shoulder blade, Lucifer snaps upright, spine ramrod straight.
In a split second, he wheels around to seize Dan’s wrist, teeth bared in a ferocious, hair-raising growl as his eyes blaze with fury. Chloe swears that they flash blood red, and for a heartbeat, she understands why suspects are so terrified of him, she understands how people can believe that he’s the Devil.
Dan gasps in pain, as Lucifer’s grasp is bruisingly tight, and he stumbles over his own feet when the man shoves him against the wall and pins his wrist against his chest.
“Lucifer!” Chloe shouts in astonishment and alarm.
She grabs his free arm - there’s no way she’s going anywhere near his back after that response - and it’s enough to catch his attention, as his head jerks towards her minutely. The entire precinct has fallen still and quiet; their colleagues are staring with wide, wary eyes, visibly taken aback and disturbed by Lucifer’s sudden viciousness.
Everybody knows, of course, that Lucifer is far stronger than he appears and is not afraid to rough up suspects. Everybody also knows that Chloe is the only person who can convince him to back off and calm down. Chloe knows they’re all waiting with baited breaths to see whether she’ll be able to rescue Dan from Lucifer’s wrath.
She raises her eyebrows pointedly and shakes her head. Let him go, she wills him silently.
And Lucifer, ever attuned to her body language, understands instantly without the need for spoken word. He works his jaw slowly, clenching his teeth as his stony gaze returns to Dan, who looks shaken and panicked as he struggles in the other man’s grip. Just as fast as he struck before, Lucifer withdraws, releasing Dan and stepping back. Her ex collapses to the floor, his knees giving out under him because Lucifer had basically been holding him upright.
“Don’t touch my back ever again,” Lucifer grits out.
“Got it, man,” Dan agrees, nodding frantically. “No touching your back. Got it.”
Chloe reaches out and snags Lucifer’s sleeve to gently tug on it and guide him away. He follows her obediently, and although he bristles angrily when they both hear Dan mutter what a dick under his breath, he relaxes and ducks his head when she slips her hand into his and squeezes it supportively. Everybody continues to stare at them as Chloe leads Lucifer safely away, but she knows that his eyes are fixed on her. And she only cares about him. So everything else fades into the background.
She drives him back to LUX, and he sits quietly in the passenger seat during the journey, watching the streets and traffic pass in a blur. Casting him curious glances every so often, Chloe doesn’t pressure him to talk. The way he’s sitting, slightly bent over as if too sensitive to rest against the seat, does not look too comfortable.
“Have you got a chronically bad back?” she asks.
Lucifer startles. “Pardon?” he frowns at her.
“You just really seem to hate it when people touch your back,” Chloe shrugs, focused on the red traffic light in front of her. “I thought… does it hurt?”
His brow furrows, and looks back out of the window, murmuring, “Not my back, no.”
“But… something hurts?” she prompts.
For a couple of minutes, silence settles between them both. It’s not awkward at all, because at this point they’ve spent so much time together that they’re utterly at ease in each other’s company. Finally, Lucifer breaks it by saying quietly, “I lost my wings.”
“Your…” Chloe trails off, confused. Oh. Another Devil metaphor thing? “Right, I guess that makes sense. The Devil was an angel.”
Lucifer looks amused, his lips tick up in a smirk. “You’re still struggling to believe me, aren’t you? Also, is, not was. Still an angel, physiologically. Can’t change my species, unfortunately.”
“And you… lost… your wings?” When Lucifer simply nods in response, Chloe attempts to wrap her head around it. It’s obviously some kind of metaphor for something, although she can’t for the life of her figure out what. She’ll have to try and work within his delusions to get clearer answers out of him. “Was it when you Fell?”
“When I came to Earth, actually,” he replies shortly. She winces at his tone; okay, don’t bring up the Fall in future conversations otherwise he’ll shut down. “In 2011, when I arrived in LA.”
“What made you decide to move here?
“Well, to be quite honest with you, I didn’t,” Lucifer sighs, continuing to stare distantly out of the window at the traffic. “I initially came to LA for a holiday. All I wanted was a break from Hell, but then… let’s just say that my circumstances changed.”
“I feel you,” Chloe nods, joking, “Sometimes I think all I want is a vacation as well.”
“That can’t be what you truly desire,” Lucifer says, glancing over at her before exhaling in defeat as he mutters, “Not that you’ll tell me what that is, considering your freakish immunity to my powers.”
“Oh, thanks,” she rolls her eyes. “Trying out a new method of flirting with me, are you? Women don’t particularly enjoy being told they’re freakish, just FYI.”
“If I were flirting with you, believe me, you’d know, love,” her partner chuckles. “And I apologize - I retract my statement. You are not a freak, you are entirely unique. After all, I’ve met millions of humans and you are the only person to be able to resist my powers.” When Chloe pulls the car up to the front of LUX, Lucifer unclicks his seatbelt and questions in a lighter tone, “Care to join me for a drink, Detective?”
She smiles apologetically. “Not today, hotshot. Gotta drive to pick Trixie up from school in an hour and I don’t trust you not to get me tipsy.”
“Oh, is somebody a lightweight?” he teases, clambering out of the vehicle and leaning down with his arm bracing the roof.
Rolling her eyes, Chloe resists the urge to retort that she’s by no means a lightweight and can perfectly manage her drink, because she knows Lucifer will goad her into a contest. “No, but you can be very persuasive. See you tomorrow, Lucifer.”
The next day, everybody at the precinct is talking about Lucifer’s freak out over Dan touching his back, gossiping in hushed voices about their theories. Chloe snaps at Cacuzza to stop when she overhears her whispering about how she thinks Lucifer might have severe trauma scars, but that only seems to make it worse, as people think that Cucuzza must be right. She hears the most horrible things, and can only be glad that Lucifer is as tardy as usual and hasn’t turned up yet to overhear and be mortified.
They talk about the scathing comments Lucifer has made about his father in the past, and theorize that his dad took a belt or type of stick to his back as a child. Chloe hates how she can’t completely disagree, because she does personally think that her partner suffered long-term mental and physical abuse from his father. But she thinks it’s rude and disrespectful for her colleagues to be speculating about Lucifer’s health, postulating that his back is covered in awful scars, when they have no real evidence to suggest that.
Chloe nearly loses it when one of her fellow detectives - surprise, surprise, it’s a man - jokes about the scars being from hardcore BDSM gone wrong, because he thinks Lucifer would be into that sort of thing. The nauseating metallic tang of blood fills her mouth when Chloe bites her tongue in fury, knowing for certain that there’s nothing Lucifer would hate more than being tied up and helpless by somebody he doesn’t fully know and trust. And then, on top of that, she almost decks a police officer who makes a leering remark about how Chloe might know what’s wrong with Lucifer back, if they’re such close partners. Thankfully, she doesn’t have to risk getting suspended because Dan orders them to knock it off and get back to work.
“Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” Lucifer teases her to try and break her out of her grumpy state when he finally turns up. He trails behind her like a puppy as they head to the car, having been called to a new crime scene. “You know, your mood might be improved if you used that bed of yours for more than just sleeping - a little tumble in the sheets, maybe?”
“Do you ever think of anything other than sex?” Chloe scowls.
Lucifer’s playful grin vanishes and she can see his emotional barriers shuttering as he dips his head with a wounded expression. “I apologize, Detective. I aim to jest, not to cause any upset or offense.”
Chloe winces. Lucifer really doesn’t respond well to being yelled at. She stops walking, so abruptly that Lucifer almost crashes into her back, and turns around with a contrite smile. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped. It’s not you that I’m mad at. Some of the guys were being assholes earlier and it pissed me off.” She falls into step next to him, nudging his arm with her elbow supportively. “I’ll cheer up soon, especially working beside you. Although how I’m going to survive an hour in the car with you, I don’t know,” she jokes.
“An hour?” Lucifer sounds aghast. “How are we meant to solve a murder in a time-effective manner if we ourselves are victims of LA’s dreadful morning traffic?”
Shaking her head and smothering her own laughter, Chloe unlocks the car and climbs into the driver’s seat. “I’ll make sure to have a good talk with the next murder victim whose case we get put on, ask them to be killed later in the day so the streets are less congested,” she replies sarcastically.
“It would definitely be far more convenient.” Lucifer flashes her a winning smile as he slides gracefully into the passenger seat.
“Oh, Heaven forbid a murder be inconvenient,” Chloe laughs. “For us, rather than the victim.” She bites her lip. “We really shouldn’t be joking about this, it’s unprofessional. And pretty disrespectful to the victim.”
He winks. “I won’t tell if you won’t, dear. And our dearly departed murder victim of the day’s soul has moved on, for better or worse, so they couldn’t give less of a shizzle that we’re joking about their death.”
“Did you just say shizzle?” she laughs.
“Yes, I’m trying out alternative swear words I can use around your spawn so you won’t hit me over the head with a spatula again.”
“Oh my god, it wasn’t a spatula!”
“Oh yes, I remember now. It was a pair of tongs.”
“Shut up.”
As if their inappropriate banter has cursed them, it doesn’t take very long for them to hit traffic, and a lot of it. According to the news, an eighteen-wheeler has overturned on the 405 near the airport and is blocking both lanes, which is creating a whole load of issues. The traffic is not completely stand-still, though, just incredibly slow-moving, so Chloe and Lucifer settle back in their seats to try and get as comfortable as possible for what might be a couple of hours stuck in the car.
They flick through the radio stations at first, attempting to find something to listen to, but end up arguing over classic rock or 90s jams. Lucifer pouts adorably when Chloe finally just switches the radio off when they can’t agree. He asks about Trixie - probably more out of politeness’s sake rather than actual interest - and Chloe fills up twenty minutes by telling him about her recent school grades, her getting onto the softball team, her secretly stashing chocolate cake from Dan under her bed. But even she tires of that topic eventually, knowing that she’s talking about her daughter to somebody who isn’t particularly fond of children, just to pass the time.
Tapping her fingers against the steering wheel, Chloe decides to brave a topic that she knows Lucifer will be initially delighted to discuss, but eventually become cagey about: himself, and his past. “So you never explained properly before. What exactly is ‘the Devil’ doing in LA?”
Lucifer casts her a surprised look, tilting his head like a curious cocker spaniel. “You truly wish to hear the whole story?” he asks.
“Yeah, we’re friends. We’ve worked together for months, and I feel like I should know your backstory by now,” Chloe responds, creeping the car forward a couple of paces and then cranking the handbrake, putting it into neutral. They’re only traveling about a foot every five minutes, so there’s no point in wasting fuel. “Instead, you’re still doing the whole hunky mysterious man with a secret past gig.”
Wrinkling his nose in disdain, Lucifer mutters, “As much as I am flattered by your acknowledgment of my excellent features and stunningly good looks - and it’s been a long time coming - please do not ever let the word ‘hunky’ pass your lips again.”
“Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?” she quirks an eyebrow, leaning towards with a challenging smirk.
Mimicking her raised eyebrow, Lucifer rests his arm on the armrest between the seats and raises his chin slightly with a sultry smirk. “Why, I might just have to kiss you to keep your mouth shut, and while I know that you would instantly swoon, you’re convinced that I’m poisonous to you.” His tongue darts out to lick his dry lips seductively, which Chloe’s eyes flicker down to briefly before darting back up. She swallows the lump forming in her throat and desperately attempts to ignore the heat stirring in her lower abdomen. Damn him. He knows exactly what he’s doing to her. “Best avoid that,” he finishes in a low voice, sitting up straight again.
Chloe breathes out shakily and shakes herself, turning away to stare out the front of the windscreen again. She knows her cheeks must be flushed red because of how hot they feel, but at least Lucifer isn’t rude enough to point it out. “Enough of your flirting,” she says, clearing her throat. “C’mon, tell me how you ended up in LA. I promise I won’t even challenge your metaphors, I’ll play along with your celestial analogies.” Lucifer scoffs under his breath, but a quick glance his way reveals he’s actually sporting a small, hopeful smile. “You really expect me to believe that you’re on vacation from ‘Hell’?”
“I was,” he replies simply. “I don’t lie, Detective. That was what it was meant to be, at the start.” Apprehension strikes her when Lucifer’s expression swiftly turns dark and sullen. He stares down at his hands in his lap, brow furrowed with anxiety. His mercurial moods are enough to give her whiplash on a good day; this appears to be a bad one. “But then my brother got sick of having to constantly hunt me down and drag me back to Hell whenever I escaped up here, and decided that if I liked it on Earth so much, he would turn this Realm into my prison instead and force me to hate it.” To her shock, he sounds rather choked up as his voice decreases in volume to a strained whisper. “He grounded me here. Permanently.”
“So your brother is keeping you trapped here?” she questions, confused, because how can a vacation destination Lucifer personally chose be transformed into a jail cell? His metaphors are incomprehensible, sometimes. “You can’t just… I don’t know, fly back down to Hell?”
Lucifer clenches his jaw, avoiding eye contact with her. “I lost my wings, remember? That wasn’t by choice, Detective.”
Chloe honestly doesn’t know what to say, chewing on her lip. Lucifer’s metaphors are elaborate and fantastical, but there’s nothing false about the depth of sheer emotion on his face and in his voice. He looks haunted, and there’s no way he’s that good of an actor. “A bit dramatic, isn’t it, calling LA your prison,” she quips, hoping to lighten the somber mood. But when Lucifer fails to react, Chloe sobers. He’s being serious. And he’s actually opening up to her. She softens her tone, reaching over to rest her hand on his arm. “Why don’t you just leave?”
“How I wish it were that simple,” he replies with a bitter smile. “I can’t. My brother won’t let me leave the city limits. If I try, he dumps me straight back onto that wretched beach I arrived here on. And every time I nearly do escape his… surveillance, his methods of keeping me here become more violent.”
He rubs his leg almost nostalgically, as if remembering a past injury. Chloe’s heart sinks like a stone, heavy and cold as it presses on her diaphragm. Lucifer may be talking in metaphors, but he doesn’t lie, which means that his brother is attacking and hurting him to make sure he doesn’t leave the city. Does that count as unlawful imprisonment? It’s not as if his brother is holding him hostage within LUX, he’s stopping Lucifer from vacating the city. She’s never heard of something like that before.
“He won’t even let me return to Hell anymore,” Lucifer muses absentmindedly. “Cut off my only way of getting back down there. Maze is only here because a particularly annoying magical demonologist owed me a favor and was able to get her out for me. I had to make a deal with my brother to let her stay, to help him recover something he lost. These days, his only aim is to torture me.”
As blood-curlingly terrible as Lucifer’s words are - and Chloe has no doubt that they’re true - his expression is one of melancholy and sadness, as if he’s still mourning a past civil relationship with his brother. As if he’s not surprised by his brother wanting to torment him, but is disappointed that it got to this point. She wonders if they were close, before the rift that tore apart their family resulted in Lucifer being abandoned and thrown to the curb.
But before Chloe can muster up her courage to gently ask if he’s okay, Lucifer snaps out of it, coughing mildly. He flashes a hollow, artificially bright smile at her, despite how his eyes remain dull and black with dejection. “And so I live in LA now. Not the worst place in the world to be caged, but certainly not the best. I really should have aimed for Ibiza, or Monaco. Oh, do the Monacans know how to party! Certainly better than Hell - a lot less burning ash, no murderous demons wanting to gut me, no soap bars lurking ominously at the bottom of the prison showers, so to speak. Although sometimes I think the businessmen in this city are perhaps more ruthless than the Lilim.”
It’s somewhat amusing that the man who thinks himself the Devil and is famous in LA for making deals of all kinds is comparing big business executives to demons. But Chloe can’t help but feel like he’s joking to try and cover up his unease and despair at being squashed into a box and controlled by his brother.
“So… you enjoy living here, even though you can’t leave,” Chloe comments. Lucifer wants for nothing while he’s living here and indulges himself constantly. “You run the most successful nightclub in California and you’re filthy rich, so you can afford all the shiny trinkets, booze, and drugs you could ever want to keep you entertained -”
He cuts her off, his voice quiet and despondent as he slowly explains to her, “And yet I cannot play the piano, because my brother breaks my hands and smashes any instrument I touch into pieces. I cannot drive a car, because my brother will sabotage it or run me off the road. I cannot join the humans dancing and partying away their sorrows and troubles, because my brother will beat me unconscious in front of them all and drive them away from my club.”
Chloe’s jaw drops. She’s struck speechless. All of those little things that used to pop up as red flags in her mind - they’re behaviors born from Lucifer being abused and intimidated by his brother. She can scarcely believe what she’s hearing, but the genuinely grave, tired look on Lucifer’s face informs her that he is truly not lying or exaggerating.
Giving a little helpless shrug, Lucifer murmurs, “My brother knows what recreations and activities I enjoy the most while living on Earth, and he makes damn sure I cannot enjoy them without suffering for it.” Sighing, he sits back in his seat and peers out the window. “Regardless, I try and live a mostly pleasant life here, despite his interference.”
“Your brother beats you?” Chloe says, her voice breaking as tears begin to brim. “He breaks your hands?” God, she’s seen the yearning looks Lucifer sends the beautiful piano he has in his penthouse, she’s seen his immense desire to play it… but he can’t. He doesn’t, in fear of his brother hurting him. She’s always suspected that his family was manipulative and abusive, but this takes it to a whole other level. Lucifer is quite literally being tortured.
And then, it somehow gets worse, because Lucifer admits casually, “He would gladly kill me if he could get away with it. Unfortunately for him - and for me - my father wishes for my existence to continue, so he can only make me wish I were dead.”
Chloe feels the blood drain from her face, leaving her feeling chilled to the bone. Holy shit. Holy shit. Not only is Lucifer regularly abused by his brother, but he’s also now basically admitting to passive suicidal ideation. Her partner. How did she miss this? Lucifer’s hand curling over her own, his smooth skin hot as he brushes the pad of his thumb over her palm, pulls her attention back to him.
He’s smiling at her sadly. “I can see you’re horrified. It’s not all bad, Detective, I promise. After all, I have you. And that is a substantial boon to my situation.” He pauses to visibly swallow, his thumb stilling as it rests over her wrist’s pulse point. Chloe wonders if he can feel how her heart is racing. “But, to be truthful, I’m not sure how long this arrangement of ours will last. My brother told me a few days ago that if I start to enjoy working with you and the LAPD too much, he will make me sorely regret it. The moment he threatens you, I will be forced to give you up too, to keep you safe from him.”
The disquieting panic that slashes through her is promptly overtaken by possessive rage. No. That’s not happening. Lucifer will not be taken away from her. “Well, I refuse to give you up,” she says firmly. The ferocious determination in her voice appears to startle Lucifer, because he trains his gaze on her face, frowning. “We can stop him. Tell me who he is, give me his name; we can have him arrested for stalking, repeated aggravated assault, destruction of property - a load of other charges!” She’s fully aware that she probably sounds wildly frantic right now, but all she wants is for Lucifer to be safe - so that she doesn’t have to lose him. “We can get you a restraining order so he has to stay away from you, Lucifer, we can get him sent to prison so you can be free. You’re part of the LAPD family now and we protect our own.” And she knows that if she went to Lieutenant Monroe with these allegations, if they pulled in the other detectives in the department, they would help her pursue justice, regardless of their current disdain for her over Palmetto. Lucifer is becoming rather popular with everybody.
But he shakes his head, sighing. “Thank you, Detective, but I’m afraid that won’t work. It would only make him angrier with me.”
Stricken, she protests, “But he’s keeping you trapped here, stalking you, tormenting you… you have to hate it.”
“I hate my imprisonment, but I don’t hate LA,” Lucifer corrects her, his thumb returning to tenderly rubbing over her palm, making her skin tingle. “This is the place I intended to visit for my holiday, after all. I chose it, out of every other city on the planet, and I do love it. I may have even decided to move here, eventually, if my brother hadn’t taken that decision away from me. And you’re right, it’s not all bad. For one thing, even if I could leave, I simply don’t have anywhere else to go, Detective.” His tone turns pensive as he muses aloud, “LA may be the City of Angels, but it’s also the City of Lost Souls. People come here, helpless and hopeless, desperately hunting for something better, trying to fulfill their dreams and desires. So many are lost in the chaos, so many are left behind. What’s one more ghost haunting this place? Besides, I may be the Devil, but I’m still an angel. And LA seems to be the best place for lost angels, who don’t belong anywhere and don’t deserve forgiveness, to search for freedom… and redemption.”
By some miracle, the traffic in front of her car gradually began to move, obviously due to the incident ahead finally being cleared. As they start moving forward, gaining in speed, Chloe turns her attention from Lucifer back onto the road, although still casts him quick glances every few minutes. Her right hand reminds within his grasp, and she can’t bring herself to withdraw it, even though it’s not particularly safe to only drive with one hand, and her non-dominant one at that. Luckily, her car is an automatic, and the traffic is still relatively slow. A comfortable silence falls between them, giving Chloe some time to gather her thoughts and mull over all of this new information about Lucifer he’s provided.
Lucifer is being intimidated, stalked, and regularly assaulted by his brother - presumably older than him, and still a member of the family Lucifer was disowned from. But he doesn’t want to press charges against him because he doesn’t think that it will help him at all. He actually thinks that it will make things worse for him.
Maybe Lucifer’s family are not just part of a religious cult… maybe they’re powerful, and rich, with influence in high places which has allowed them to escape police scrutiny. Maybe they have corrupt cops paid off to ensure they’re not reported to higher authorities. Lucifer’s contempt towards police officers and his lack of faith in the American legal system’s ability to mete out justice would make sense, if he attempted to get help before when he was younger but was dismissed.
She could go behind Lucifer’s back and file a report on his behalf, but she has the feeling that if he found out about it, he would be very distraught and become even more paranoid. There’s the slightest of chances that Lucifer might be so upset about it - and so scared of his brother’s retaliation - that he might drop off the face of the planet. Chloe knows that he can do it, because he basically didn’t exist before he appeared in LA.
No, she can’t try and arrest Lucifer’s brother. Not when it would certainly result in her losing him. All she can do is offer help and support and a safe space for him, in hope that one day he might trust her enough to drop his metaphors so they can actually find his family to make them pay for what they’ve done to him.
When they finally arrive at the crime scene, parking on the curb just a couple of feet away from the yellow police tape, Chloe holds her partner back for a moment after they get out of the car, tentatively snagging hold of his wrist. Lucifer doesn’t flinch, but his head darts around so he can blink at her.
“I think LA is the perfect place for people needing second chances,” she tells him quietly. “Even if you are trapped here, I feel like this is the right city for your new home, Lucifer.”
“Home?” he echoes, his expression contorting into something strangely reflective, as if the term is only vaguely familiar to him, tugging on a distant memory. “I don’t think I know what that means anymore.”
And isn’t that such a tragic, fragile thing? “You’ll figure it out. And if you need my help, I’ll be here for you,” Chloe promises.
Lucifer cocks his head. “You will be?”
“Yeah.” Stepping forward, Chloe lifts the police tap for him to duck under - something that Lucifer has always done for her. Smiling softly at him as he appears mildly bewildered by this turn of events, she murmurs, “Us lost souls have gotta stick together, right?”
His expression shifts, proceeded by a flicker of dawning understanding. His grin in response is hesitant and somewhat bashful, but entirely genuine. “Right.”