Author's Note: So. I realize I'm supposed to be working on Damnatio, and like half a dozen other fics, but you know what? I have had the *shittiest* past couple of months. I lost 10 friends in 2 collisions at sea. I had to listen to my 7 year old adopted niece give testimony about her step father's years of abuse that made one of the juror's vomit. I had family members at the concert in Las Vegas who I didn't hear from for two days after the shooting to know if they were okay or not (thankfully, they're fine). I also may be losing my entire progress on Damnatio because a guest reviewer wanted to be a douche nozzle and got bent out of shape when I deleted their review that had nothing to do with the story, and is now trying to get it taken down because I didn't immediately respond from MID FLIGHT to their demands that I rewrite sections of author's notes.
Bad. Goddamn. Year. Anyway, my therapy is to have Lucifer take revenge on people that I cannot. BUT HERE'S ANOTHER WARNING! LOOK! RIGHT HERE! This chapter, and this chapter only, will deal with past child abuse. It mentions bruises, and vague flashbacks involving bad breath and hands. LITERALLY, THAT IS IT. However, for people who might have issues with that, do not read this chapter.
It wasn't that Lucifer didn't like children. Not fundamentally, anyway. Not the way he didn't like traffic, or didn't like having to clean blood off of a Prada jacket, or didn't like his Father.
Children were just unfortunately, and unbearably, loud.
Everything about them was loud. Their actions, their clothes, their voices, their thoughts and their emotions and their desires. He didn't have to worry about trying to elicit what they truly desired because they were only too happy to shriek it from the rooftops if given half a chance.
They were also tiny, and delicate, and fragile, and so incredibly easy to break, and seemed to have no concept of their own fragile bodies and souls.
Lucifer was pretty good at keeping his strength in check. Even halved after lopping off his wings and his last real connection to his divinity, it didn't take much of a distraction for him to forget just how much stronger he was than full grown humans. He'd accidentally bruised more than his fair share of bedfellows, but they usually laughed it off or didn't even notice at the time.
But children…
Children were a distraction at the best of times. Lucifer never chanced an encounter with them if he could avoid it. Especially not in the first years on Earth, when everything was just so omnipresent. Part of the reason he started Lux was to have a way to drown out everything outside those walls. Old habits die hard, and the impulse to punish the guilty here as he did in his own kingdom was sometimes too loud to ignore. Like an addict craving a fix – so he found something else to be addicted to.
Humanity.
The ones he allowed into the club were all there because they wanted the same thing as he did - a distraction from existence. Where everything could be louder, brighter, and more alive than what was beyond those doors. Ones he didn't have to worry about, ones that when sufficiently distracted by music and booze and willing bodies, were only too happy not to think at all.
Lucifer was quite happy with his 'no children' policy in his life.
But sometimes…
Sometimes, he made an exception.
Coffee was one of the most wondrous things ever invented by Man. Music was the first. Coffee was the second. Everything after that was entertaining but easily dismissible.
However, not all coffee was created equal. Worse, not everyone made it well. It took two and a half years, but Lucifer finally found the best coffee in all of Los Angeles. A small, faded and so out of date it was now back in vintage style diner. The irony of the name 'Taste of Heaven' was almost enough to hate it on principle, until he realized it specifically meant its coffee.
It also helped it was one of the few places open 24/7, 365 days a year, which appealed to his impulsive nature and no need for sleep.
He sat in his favorite booth, far at the end of the line against the windows where he could see anyone coming and going, easily get the attention of the kitchen staff, and stretch his legs that were too long to fit under the chipped and cracking laminate table tops without impeding the waitresses.
But perhaps even better than the coffee, divine as it was, was not his favorite part about the diner. Here, he no one knew who he was. Not his name, not his business…Doris the Waitress preferred to call him Mr. Darcy, since apparently that was the only British figure she knew.
At least it wasn't Margaret Thatcher.
He leaned with his back up against the windows, a copy of The Five People You Meet in Heaven opened in his lap, long legs stretched out the length of the cracked red vinyl seat cushion and his feet hanging into the aisle. He idly twirled his finger over the cooling coffee mug, the spoon obediently following his movement, stirring the creamer and sugar in.
No one paid him any mind. They'd seen weirder things at an all-night diner in the heart of LA than his parlor tricks.
Just as he was finishing the final page, he heard the familiar jingle of the ancient bell above the door. Lucifer glanced up, pausing his stirring to take a sip when he saw who'd entered the diner.
A girl, no more than eight, stood in the doorway. Long, dirty blonde curls that were haphazardly tied back in a ponytail, a face too thin for her age and hollowed cheeks. Her dark eyes were solemn as she took in the diner – fading paint, outdated advertisements on the bulletin, chipped countertops, and the sounds of the kitchen staff invisible beyond the order window.
The little girl inhaled deeply, and Lucifer could see her shoulders rise and fall on the exhale. Those dark eyes closed briefly, and her entire frame relaxed.
"Morning, honey," Doris greeted from the counter. She leaned over folded arms across the counter top, smiling brilliantly, but even from where he sat, Lucifer could see it was forced. "You want your usual?"
The little girl shook her head slowly, her lank curls obscuring her expression.
"You sure?"
A nod, even slower than the shake, and Doris's smile slipped.
"How about I make you something, just in case you feel hungry later, huh?"
Lucifer saw her start to shake her head again, but aborted half way. With a very, very small smile, the girl nodded, barely moving her head.
Doris's smile was back in its full megawatt glory. "Sure thing, sugar. I'll be right back."
It seemed odd someone would let a child her age wander about this close to dawn in the city, but Lucifer learned a long time ago that people were baffling.
He went back to reading, easily dismissing the girl and the exchange until he felt the familiar crawling sensation of being watched and slowly lowered the book.
The girl was standing at the edge of the table, regarding him seriously through those dark eyes.
"Can I help you?" Lucifer asked when she remained silent.
Instead of answering, she climbed into the opposite bench, feet swinging freely as she scooted to the middle of the bench and offered a shy smile that didn't reach her eyes.
He set his book down on the table, swinging his feet down underneath the table as he leaned forwards, considering her with the same level of seriousness that she studied him with.
Unlike most children he encountered, there was nothing loud about her. Less a whirling, swirling cacophony of sound and color, she was little more than a faded shadow, like a candle burned too low to give any light.
He held out his hand, palm up and flat. "May I?"
Without a word and without taking her eyes off of him, the girl carefully placed her hand in his. Not holding it, or trying to grasp, simply palm against palm.
It looked even more fragile against his hand than it had clasped in her own. Thin, knobby joints with paper white skin pulled too tight against fragile bone. Ugly, dark bruises encircling tiny wrists shaped like too large fingers. A nail was torn and ragged. Another half missing.
He slid his hand out from underneath hers, and she pulled hers back into her lap.
"My name is Lucifer Morningstar," he said. "You are?"
"Hailie."
"Hailie," Lucifer repeated, offering a slight nod in greeting. "Do you know what I am?"
She nodded once, the motion decisive and sure. "You're an angel."
Children's perceptiveness was another reason he tried to avoid them. They seemed to recognize there was something not quite human about him, but instead of setting them on edge, it seemed to make them associate him with Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny – something not human, but nothing dangerous.
"Not quite," Lucifer corrected mildly, but she vehemently shook her head.
"Yes, you are," she said defiantly, and that once fading candle flared to momentary life.
Lucifer sighed and fought the urge to roll his eyes skyward towards his Father. You bastard.
"I'm afraid I'm not much of one any more. Why do you need an angel so badly, Miss Hailie?"
Hannah didn't speak, her small lips pressed into a thin line.
Lucifer couldn't read minds – he wasn't a Jedi. Not the way that most people thought. Yes, he specialized in eliciting desires, but all angels, no matter how far they'd fallen, were more…empathic for lack of a better word, than mind readers. Emotions, especially strong ones, were easy to pick up. Lucifer was never particularly adept at it since he tried his level best to stay out of the minds of the people who found their way to his domain, but his brothers and sisters were considerably better. Especially Raphael.
Lucifer flinched at the force of Hailie's nightmares.
The stink of alcohol on whispered threats, sweaty hands that only bruised and late night visits no one was supposed to know about.
Denials of anything wrong when people in badges and uniforms came to visit.
His mug cracked in his grip. "I see," he managed through gritted teeth. "I'll take care of it."
"How?"
Lucifer offered a one shouldered shrug. "I doubt you want to know," he said honestly.
Doris came by with two large to go containers, and Lucifer could smell pancakes and whipped cream from both of them. "You know, honey, you're more than welcome to stay here and eat these if you want, at your usual table. Mr. Darcy tends to prefer being alone."
Hailie frowned at the name, but Lucifer surreptitiously waved her off. Never mind, he mouthed, making a nixing motion with his free hand.
"Quite all right, I assure you," Lucifer said, smiling brilliantly up at the waitress. "I was just leaving. You keep the young lady here for the next…" he glanced at his watch, "hour or so, and then someone will be by to pick her up."
Someone besides the incompetent CPS officers Hailie already met.
He was already dialing before he stepped out of the diner.
"How would you like to go on a little hunting trip?" he asked. It would take her less than ten minutes to find out where Hailie came from. That small, this early? She had to walk, and it wouldn't be far. Lucifer couldn't harm people.
But Maze most certainly could.
While he wasn't normally a fan of asking 'how high' when his Father said 'jump', this was an exception he was willing to make.
Nobody's love was unconditional. Not even his Father's.