A/N: Welcome back my dear Lucifans! I hope you're all having a great time with S5b! I'm not gonna give out any spoilers! But be on the lookout for possible One Shots from me ;)

Anyhow, it's lovely to see you back on this crazy journey and I hope you are buckled up! I'm SUPER excited about this chapter, so I wish you a great time reading!

Also: SPCLjmm on FFN, if you're reading this: Turn on your DMs! :D

Recommended Songs:

Turns You Into Stone - Tommee Profitt (feat. Fleurie)

Atrium Carceri - Sacred Slab

Apocryphos, Kammarheit, Atrium Carceri - A Pale Sign Revealed

Step Into Darkness - Dubkiller & Archer

Thunder and Rain

Really Slow Motion & Giant Apes - Dark Times

Carson - Dark Mist

Jurrivh - Teardrops

Chapter 11 – Sequence

[Turns You Into Stone - Tommee Profitt (feat. Fleurie)]

She glanced over to Lucifer, concerned. He had been silent ever since they got into her car, had scrunched up against the door, his eyes glassy and his mind seeming a million miles away. It was understandable he was lost in thought, of course, given what had been sent to him this morning. Hell, she was hardly able to process everything herself that was happening. "What are you thinking about?" she asked softly, switching the lane to lake a left turn.

Lucifer blinked, his brows pinching in a moment of confusion. It was easier to explain what he hadn't been thinking about. The things he had thought about were twisted into a giant ball made out of barbed wire, hurting whenever he tried to disentangle the confusion. "In a nutshell? My wings." He turned towards her, stretching in his seat. "I wonder why he did this to me… what he's done with them... " Swallowing thickly, he remembered the last time his wings had been taken from him. "And there's something else… He wrote 'presents', plural, and that there were 'a lot more to come'. I wonder what that means… Maybe that package isn't going to be a one-time-only thing."

Chloe's heart sunk at his words. It was a truly horrid thought to imagine what that bastard would do with the limbs he had butchered off of Lucifer. Her mind involuntarily wandered towards a sick human analogy, where someone would cut off the limb of a victim to replace a missing one on themselves.

Christ! This is sick! But what would a person do with wings? And what could a person do with them anyway?

A topic came to her mind that she had wanted to discuss with him before, but didn't really have the chance to get to. "Lucifer… I was wondering… How could he do that? I mean, how could someone inject you with a needle and drug you so horrifically? I thought your body cannot be harmed unless I'm close to you."

He let out a deep, long sigh. "Yeah… that's yet another point on the list of things my brain is wacking itself over. It's impossible. When you're not around, I'm only vulnerable to celestial weapons or the direct impact of another angel's fist." Lucifer sighed again, shaking his head. "As for the drug… It's similar. My body has a crazy high metabolism. It should deconstruct any drug within a short amount of time, unless it's a continuous consumption to keep the effect going and not wear off."

Her gears crunched in deep thought. "So we could assume you were somehow kept on the drug, maybe with follow-up injections or maybe even an IV." She glanced at him with a sudden weird thought crossing her mind. "Or is there some celestial drug existing that has a long-lasting effect?"

A heartfelt laugh bursted over his lips at her question. It was a short laugh, but his mood brightened a tiny bit nonetheless. "I'm afraid not. Seriously, I've wished there was something like that to get knocked out, but there's no such thing like an Almighty's LSD."

"Alright. No celestial drug then. But what's with that vulnerability? Do you have any idea what could have caused it? Is there something like a… I dunno… a celestial needle?"

He looked back at her, speechless about yet another odd suggestion coming from her.

Her lips parted in a defensive grasp. "What?! I'm fishing in the dark here, okay? It's not like I know all kinds of celestial things. You opened up this world to me and it's all still very… huge."

Sighing, Lucifer reached over to her and gently ran the back of his fingers over her cheek. "I'm sorry. You're right. The things you come up with continue to surprise me, but I guess it just takes time to get to know which celestial things are true and which are bogus." As she slightly tilted her head and kissed his fingers, not tearing her eyes off the street, he smiled and lowered his hand back to his thigh. "I'm trying to think of something celestial really, but no object comes to mind that could have done this. Besides… The idea of a human having anything celestial is… well… disturbing to say the least."

Chloe's throat tightened at his words. "Well, he has your wings now. They are celestial. What could he do with them? What does it do, something celestial in human hands?"

"That's the thing. It's hard to say. It could potentially twist his mind. Not that it isn't completely bonkers already… But it would be much more intense, much worse." Licking his lips he thought of a similar example. "You've seen people react to my Devil face. And you've had your issues yourself… Like I said before, if humans don't get guidance through the exposure of divinity, it's… really bad. Having them hold my wings in their hands without any mental support, wouldn't have much of a different effect on their human minds than seeing my Devil face. Only that they would probably not brabble about hell and redemption, but things like heaven and Dad. But they'd still be completely crazy, doing crazy things, extreme things."

She thought about his words, about the time she had seen his Devil face, about the craziness that went through her own head, about the fears, about her confusion and wonder what this whole celestial world meant. She had been an atheist before and having been directly confronted with the divine, had her whole world turned upside down. But she also remembered Jimmy Barnes, her first shocking experience with somebody who had seen Lucifer's Devil face. Followed by the gruesome things Malcom did when he returned from hell.

It was strange to imagine that a person who was confronted with fluffy, beautiful angel wings, would be able to do just as crazy and horrific things. But then again, she wasn't sure her mind would have been that much better at coping, if she would've seen Lucifer's angel wings instead of his Devil face first. Sure, it would've been less terrifying, but maybe only in terms of the first few moments where her brain would be stuck on the fact of her seeing a true angel. If she would've then realized that Lucifer was truly the Devil, she was pretty sure that she still would've been shaken to her core.

Arriving at the parking lot in front of Linda's office, Chloe turned off the engine and looked at her partner worriedly. "So… those extreme things he would do…Would they for example include sick presents like the one you got?"

"Maybe. It's possible, but it's hard to say where to draw the line between general craziness and a madness caused by celestial exposure," Lucifer muttered, brushing his hands over his thighs as he realized they had arrived. The talk with Chloe, despite the grim topic, had made him forget what they were actually about to do, and now that the moment had come, his muscles began to tense up.

"You're gonna be okay, Lucifer," she softly assured him, seeing the nervosity return to his posture, knowing exactly what it was about.

Lucifer nodded quietly, took a deep breath to calm himself, but noticed it wasn't really helping. He considered smoking a cigarette or downing the flask of bourbon he had stashed in his jacket's inner pocket, but as Chloe got out of the car, he felt himself drawn to do the same and followed her. I was peculiar, but also somewhat soothing, he thought, that she was already helping him, without the session having even started just yet. Hopefully her presence would have the same effect on him when he'd confront the nightmares that were buried in his subconsciousness.

[Atrium Carceri - Sacred Slab]

It would be beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.

He just knew it.

His nitrile-gloved hands worked as deftly as always, but not in a rush. No. He had to be cautious, because it needed to be perfect. She needed to be perfect. Otherwise it wouldn't work.

Oh and it will work… It will be glorious… Majestic even… Yes.

His smile only dimmed at the realisation of loss for his precious objects. He'd give them away, these beautiful wings. He was sure he was going to miss them, but he reminded himself that it was all for a greater cause. He'd part from them willingly, knowing that what he'd achieve would be so much better, so much more important.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead on the sleeve of his shirt, he stretched his straining back. It was a lot of work and he wanted for it to look flawless, so he needed to stay composed and concentrated. Of course he hadn't put that much carefulness into obtaining the divine appendages. But now? Now was the time to be meticulous and have an eye for the details. The bright lights above him were cleansing in a way, just like he wanted them to be as they reminded him of where he had been. That light… It had been pure. White. Innocent to what creature they engulfed, no matter how tainted it was.

Or so he had thought.

He let out a frustrated breath. "I'm going to make it right again. Show him that I'm worthy. I can be just as creative as him. Yes… He'll see my dedication. My love. My devotion to him."

After cracking his neck left and right and adding a short roll of his shoulders, he focussed back on his delicate work. He'd still be busy for several hours before the next part of his project would take place. It was all very exhausting. Especially without help. That giant brawler hadn't been the best idea, he had to admit. But it had been a very clear sign for him: If you want something done, do it yourself. Don't reap the fruits of somebody else's labour. Get your own hands dirty all the way. Sweat and bleed for it, if you have to, and the reward will be even greater.

So he decided to do it alone. All of it.

Little by little he connected the components of his work. His tools were of a broad spectrum. One could think of him as a handyman, but he had to use his medical tools just the same. Holes needed to be drilled, connections sewed and bolted, and excess material needed to be removed. Only once he'd finally be done would he take a short rest to eat and gather new strength, because then the next straining step of his plan would follow.

And tomorrow would be a great day.

[Apocryphos, Kammarheit, Atrium Carceri - A Pale Sign Revealed]

Lucifer sat on the couch, nervously fumbling with his ring. The room was feeling horribly small, his breathing shaking and laboured, and he felt the distinct need to jump up and burst out the door. He was afraid of the memories he didn't remember, afraid of the moment he would remember, when the horrors would crush over him like a tidal wave, when he'd feel the moments of terror and helplessness, when he couldn't move, couldn't scream.

A warm squeeze of his left, cold-sweat hand made him blink and turn his head. Chloe looked at him lovingly, her features full of understanding and gentleness, and his heart made a tiny, joyful jump. As her lips curled into a warm, encouraging smile, he swallowed.

"You can do this, Lucifer," she whispered, her thumb running in circles over the back of his hand.

Oh my… Can I? Bloody hell, why is she so Dad-damn confident in me? I'm a trembling mess and can hardly keep it together!

Insecurely nodding back at her - because, what other choice did he have? - he licked his lips and looked back at Linda who sat in her chair opposite to them. "So… erm… What am I supposed to do, Doctor?"

Linda took a deep breath, folded her legs and clicked her ball pen. "We'll start with the photos Chloe brought along. You take them into your hands and look through them, one after another, or, if you feel like it, you spread them out. Whatever feels fitting to you. I will guide you along with some questions you can think about as you look at them, alright?"

He didn't know what her strategy was all about. Looking at photos and asking questions? What was he? A child? Again his head turned to look at Chloe, whether it was to get a reassuring smile from her or for her to help him escape this room, he wasn't exactly sure. He figured it was both. But when she lightly nudged her delicate chin to the folder resting in his lap, he realized she wasn't providing him with either. She wanted for him to focus on the issue at hand, and not bail in a fit of frantic avoidance behaviour.

With a shaking exhale, his shoulders sunk in resignation and his eyes wandered down to the folder. Opening it, he grabbed the pile of photos taken at the warehouse. The top one was once again the photo he had in his hands at the precinct. "This one had sparked my last flashback. About the drive to the warehouse," he informed Linda in a quiet murmur, his mind trying to gather more information from his memory which was still very vague.

"Good, good. Try telling us what exactly you remember," Linda said, taking her first notes as she kept observing Lucifer.

He stared at the photo, his mind gathering the pieces of information that had stuck with him from his flashback. "I was laying in the back of the car. I felt sick and hurting everywhere. I tried to move, but I couldn't. I was just suddenly rolling from one side to the other, hitting my back." His jaw clenched tightly and the non-existent nerve connections in his shoulder blades sent a short, uncomfortable phantom pain through his back. "I wanted to scream and I think I did… because my throat was hurting and that guy told me to shut up."

"Those are great details that you're recalling, Lucifer," Linda encouraged him. "Did you pick anything up with your other senses? What did you hear or see? Look at the photos. Try finding a connection."

Again his eyes anxiously glanced at Chloe. He wasn't sure what he hoped to find, but felt better when her thumb began to caress his hand again and her other went to lightly touch his back. He had imagined he would flinch, feeling her warmth easily through his jacket and shirt, against his marred, sensitive skin, but he didn't. Instead the tension seeped out of his muscles with a soft, liberating breath and he felt himself leaning slightly into her soothing touch.

"It's alright, Lucifer. I'm here. With you. You're not stuck in there," she whispered, her ocean blue eyes imploring him, letting him know that she knew he must've felt trapped, that he had been in absolute panic and so much pain, just wanting to get away.

He took a few more deep breaths, before focusing back on the photo. He looked at the blood smeared all over the flooring of the car as well as the left and right sides of the bare wheel arches. Flashes of himself being tossed left and right zapped up in his mind and he recalled the sounds connected to it, the sounds that happened before his own screaming. "He took turns, left and right. The wheels were squealing because of the speed of the car and that's how I got tossed around in the back. And I could hear the roaring thunder as well a couple of times."

Falling quiet, his teeth clenched tightly as more of his senses' memories kicked in. His muscles tensed up again, his right hand gripping onto the couch's cushion next to him. He swallowed thickly, but the lump in his throat wouldn't go away. "I smelled the blood and I could taste it in my mouth."

Chloe listened, feeling with him, sharing the tight, heavy pressure on her chest that made it difficult to breathe. "You tasted it in the air?" she asked, wondering.

His head shook in a subconscious move as his memory disagreed with her. "No. I… I really tasted it. I swallowed blood from my mouth. I remember I cringed at it." He looked back at her confused, not really sure what to do with this knowledge, hoping that she could somehow give him guidance.

"Can you remember why there was blood in your mouth?" she asked quietly. "Did you hurt yourself in the car? Or maybe before the drive?"

~o~

"SHUT UP YOU FILTHY LIAR!" the chilling, male voice roars.

Something slams against his cheek with such force something cracks and his head spins to the side. He feels like sinking to the ground, but somehow he doesn't. His body stays upright. Everything spins. Then there's a stinging pain against his neck and everything goes black.

~o~

His whole body jerked back in a sudden jolt. Eyes wide, he rasped, his heart slamming against his ribcage.

"What?" Chloe asked alert, reaching up to gently caress his cheek. "What happened? What did you see?"

Her touch helped to bring him back into the moment, but the impact still lingered. It took him a few moments before his breathing and pulse calmed down. "I think it was before the drive. Apparently I said something the butchering psycho didn't like so he hit me and I felt something crack."

Chloe looked over to Linda, seeing how she was watching Lucifer while taking down notes. She had explained that she was practised to write down all the details that were spoken as well as the psychological and physiological aspects of Lucifer's appearance. After exchanging a small nod with Linda in a thanking gesture, Chloe locked eyes with her partner again. "I'm sure you defied him. Even in your horrible situation you had the strength to make him snap," she all but breathed, but her words were full of admiration and pride.

He blinked, surprised. "You think so?"

It was heartbreaking how he sounded so innocent and insecure. Nodding, she scraped along his stubbled jawline and smiled. "Yeah. I know it," she insisted and leaned in, kissing his cheek. She heard him release a soft laugh and knew her gesture and words had gotten through to him. "Do you think you can go on with the pictures?" she asked after a short break, keeping her head resting against his shoulder, to support him with as much contact from her as possible so as to help him not get overwhelmed.

Lucifer couldn't help but melt from her words and sweet little kiss. How she managed to pull him out of his swamp pits of self doubt and fill him with confidence was far beyond his ancient-old mind. "Yes," he whispered back in a hushed tone, returning to browsing through the next couple of photos. The following ones showed different angles of the car, then various wide shots of the outside of the warehouse, close up shots from his own hands, Zak lying on the ground and many more. His mind felt stuck. It was just too much, too confusing.

"Go with your gut feeling, Lucifer," Linda's voice softly rang after a while, not giving him any further indicator as to what she meant with that.

He ground his teeth. He knew there was something, memories that were all buried and tangled up in a twisted mass. Leaning forward, he placed the folder with the photos on the round table and began spreading them out. Arranging them in a grid, he looked over the images, his cogs scrunching. Then it struck him: The order felt all wrong. He needed to see the photos in a certain order and that order was hidden in the dark patch of his memory.

Gathering the pictures of the car, he sorted them at the top left of the grid as a starting point. Next he took those of the warehouse's surroundings, showing tracks in the muddy ground followed by a bolt cutter, chain and padlock all half sunken into the ground in front of the metal door of the warehouse. Slowly the knot in his brain felt untangling and the confusion became less painful.

Chloe watched with silent curiosity as Lucifer continued to arrange more and more of the photos. After the photos from the outside of the warehouse came those that had been taken inside. Various shots had been made to take in the place as a whole, but also parts where splatters of blood had been found and of items that appeared unrelated, such as the old piles of junk food waste, broken glass bottles and cigarette buds on the ground. There were pictures of everything, thanks to Ella's thorough work and she took a mental note to give her friend a tight, grateful hug the next time they'd meet.

She saw Lucifer hesitate when he began arranging the last photos, switching blood splatters with close ups from the knife once it had been removed from Zak, as well as those made of the upper and lower side of his own hands. He stared pensively and tensed between the photos, visibly trying to force himself to remember. "What's wrong?" she asked softly, hoping he didn't mind her intrusion on his thoughts.

"You know that feeling when you try to remember something and it's so close, it's on the tip of your tongue? When you can feel it, it's there and it's right, but it just doesn't click?" He let out a frustrated grunt, shaking his head. "It's like… you've got all the bloody letters of a mixed up word, but your brain just doesn't manage to put them in the right order and see the word as it should be."

His frustration was understandable and she knew the feeling he was experiencing all too well. "Tell me what you feel and think about each picture you're unsure of," she said, leaning over the table to get a better look.

Taking the remaining photos, he looked at them in thought and released a heavy sigh. "Well… I'm thinking… I don't know what I'm thinking… I… Nothing comes to mind except that it all looks like I killed him..."

She swallowed thickly, knowing that his worries were not unfounded. Afterall the evidence they had analysed so far suggested a rather clear picture. "And what do you feel when you look at them?" Chloe mouthed, mimicking Linda's ways of fishing on Lucifer's emotional level.

[Step Into Darkness - Dubkiller & Archer]

He stared at the photo. Blood everywhere. He remembered staring at his hands when he woke up to the horrors in the warehouse, how he saw the knife stuck in Zak's chest, the shirt soaked with blood and the ground splattered by it. He didn't notice how he started trembling, his breathing coming out ragged and heavy. "I feel… terrified…" he whispered, a massive pressure feeling like it was crushing his chest. He knew that feeling all too well. That pressure that was also pulling you down like a weight hung on your heart. He remembered it, because he had felt it when he had killed his own brother Uriel. "And guilty," he added with a shaky exhale and the pressure in his chest boiled up to spilling tears.

He brushed his fingers over the photos of his own hands, of the knife and that of the blood splatters on the warehouse's ground, and looked at the grid of pictures spread out on the table. The subconscious memories pushed him forward and his hand moved almost on its own, placing each remaining photo, one after another, into the grid and finally he had the feeling of the giant twisted ball in his mind being untangled. The aching throb of confusion was gone and he stared at the collage of pictures in absolute silence.

Again Chloe exchanged a look with Linda, this time because she wasn't really sure how to go on. Linda raised her palm a little bit and quietly shook her head once, motioning for her to be patient.

While on the outside Lucifer looked more or less calm, his insides were a complete different story. With an intensity he could only compare to an otherworldly force, images, voices, smells, sounds, feelings and tastes all crashed down on him in flashes, overwhelming his body. Too much for them to cope, he could feel his muscles spasming, before his mind drifted off.

[Thunder and Rain]

~o~

White. Several things spark the thought of the colour that is none. The vicious pain that shoots through his body as his back is dragged over the edge of the trunk. The lightning that shoots through the dark sky above him, blinding him and causing him to squeeze his eyes shut. And the white noise, the high pitched tune, that rings in his ears as both the pain and the next roaring thunder coalesce.

But then he's torn from the white as his body slams onto wet, muddy ground. He feels the tight grip on his wrists that's pulling him, dragging him along. Vehemently he tries to struggle out the hold, grunts and screams, but his body continues to be moved through the mud.

"Fuck… Why did he have to give you that goddamn shot before the drive?! Would be much easier if you could walk…" a male voice cursed ahead of him.

Tilting his head back, he feels thick droplets of rain hitting his face. Blinking to get rid of the excess liquid from his eyes, he looks further back, taking in the view of the man who was pulling him along. Dirty blonde hair, sturdy build and an expression on his face that reads 'murderer'. Teeth clenched, he grunts again. "Let me go!" he hisses in a slur, wiggling his hands again, but he feels exhausted and sluggish, his efforts showing no real effect.

"Will you finally shut the fuck up?!" the man growls and stops his movement.

A split second later he feels a searing pain shooting through him again as the man kicks his foot against his right shoulder blade. He cries out, but his voice is hoarse and fades in a blaring thunder. In the end all he is able to produce is a weak sobbing whimper. "P-plea-s-se…" he quietly stutters, but no response comes. Whether it is because the man didn't hear him or just doesn't care, he doesn't know, but a moment later his body continues to get dragged along.

He tries to focus, tries to think. He's being kidnapped somehow. He's been hurt, badly, he can tell. He feels strangely weak, less celestially powerful and more humanly mortal. And he can sense the evil, the gruesome finality of something lying shortly ahead of him. It's like in those thrillers where the killer brings the victim to a special place to dispatch it.

He is going to be killed.

As the realisation hits him, something inside of him stirs. A twitching flame of defiance.

No. He was not going to let himself get murdered. Not without putting up a fight.

But in order to fight, he would need to have more energy and be better aware of himself as well as his surroundings. So he focuses the energy he has, evaluating his condition. He feels into his arms that are being stretched out above his head. They're cold, but not numb and he knows he can move them upon will, clench his fingers to a fist and lunge his arm in a punch, if he were to get the chance to do so. Next he checks his legs and feet. Those are a bit more tricky to feel into, but as he had struggled before, he knows he can use them, he could stand, walk and kick, perhaps a bit awkwardly, but it was possible.

The man rumbles and he feels himself being leaned against a hard surface, sitting upright. His arms drop to the ground and he's tempted to move them, to reach out and grab the man, punch him in his legs or even up in his balls, but he senses it's not the right time. He needs to wait, needs to be patient for the right moment, the best moment, because maybe he'd only have this one chance.

He's noticing how he's shivering and how his breathing is raspy and flat. He swallows, cringing at the taste of blood. It became less, he notices, and he wonders if his celestial healing abilities are coming back into action.

A metallic clunk and rattling sounds next to him, and as he turns to look he sees the man tosses aside a thick chain and a bolt cutter. Then the man opens one side of a double winged door and reaches down, grabbing his wrists again. He grits his teeth, glaring up at the man while he's being dragged inside from him.

[Really Slow Motion & Giant Apes - Dark Times]

The sound around him changes from a whistle of wind and heavy rain that rushes down like it's monsoon time in the Amazonas, to a hollow pattering and soft, echoing dripping. He can tell he's in a big hall of some sorts and he's confirmed when he spots the massive steel beams, an old crane system along the ceiling and the stash of long-forgotten crates along the walls.

With an exhausted grunt, the man pushes him, but the moment his wrists were let go of, he manages to catch his fall halfway with his hands, saving himself from forcefully landing on his side. And with that movement, he notes that his reflexes are working rather okay.

Hopefully well enough, he thinks.

"Now. Let's see what little souvenir I can take from you before I'll cut you to pieces," the man purrs with a deadly cool tone.

A set of mud covered boots step into his view. His hair gets roughly pulled to force his head up. Looking at his opponent, he rasps heavily, feeling that something is terribly wrong with his body. He is having strength to a certain degree, but his consciousness feels dwindling. If he was going to put up a fight, he'd have to do it soon or else he might just drop to the ground, blacking out for good.

The man lets go of his hair and instead grips his right hand, inspecting it. "Nice ring…" he mutters with a dark grin creeping up his lips. "Yeah… That'll do…"

It is when he sees the metallic shimmering of a long knife in the man's other hand that his mind and body both startle with a jolt of energy. He collects his strength and the boiling rage of defiance, and uses his captured hand to give the man a powerful shove.

Surprised, the man stumbles back and trips over a plank. He falls, unfortunately not too hard, several feet away. "You damn piece of shit!" the man growls out, his wild blue eyes sparkling with rage as he begins to push himself back up.

This was the moment he needed. The only chance he would get.

He releases a guttural roar, pushes his palms against the ground and gets up on shaky legs. Swaying, his head dizzy and his sight blurred, he raises his hands to fists. Before the man can make a counter himself, he darts towards him with sloppy steps, lunges out and punches the man right in the face.

Grunting and cursing the man stumbles further back, before shaking his head as if to clear it from a darkening vision. His teeth glisten with fresh blood that drips from his nose and out of his mouth, down along his chin. He wipes the back of his hand over his bleeding nose, his eyes darkening. "You fucking son of a bitch! You wanna pick a fight before I gut you?! You can have one!"

Gathering all of his strength, he braces himself as the man storms towards him. The man viciously slices and stabs at him, but he manages to evade and block his lunging arm, avoiding too deep cuts. "You really… shouldn't… have said that," he pants through bared teeth and with a quick feint gets up close. Being body against body with his attacker, he knows the man will have to stab as there was no more room for him to make a slicing motion. Anticipating his move, he grabs the man's wrist just as the knife threatens to press into his stomach.

Growling and panting, the man pushes, but doesn't manage to get the knife move another inch. "Gaaarggh! Go to hell and fucking DIE already!"

"Been there... and done that," he hisses, feeling his celestial strength slowly returning into his muscles. But despite his strength returning, his consciousness still felt dwindling and he wondered how much blood he must have lost to feel that way. He knows he has to get the upper hand now or it could be too late if he'd wait for another minute struggling. Applying more pressure against the man's wrist, he slowly but surely pushes it out of his way and the moment he knew the knife would hit past him, he lets the man's attack miss in the air.

Using the gained access and better angle, he twists the man's hand, until its grip loosens around the knife. The man though doesn't cave in, but pushes and pulls, and uses his knee to kick him in the stomach. He groans at the pain, but there is no way he gives up the fight for his life. He has to get the knife. He's aware he's too vulnerable for a reason he doesn't know. This is about life and death and he is not going to return to hell if he can help it.

Finally, the man's fingers loosen enough for him to take the knife away from him. In a turning motion, he faces his attacker, the weapon now in his own hand, ready for whatever needs to be done. Despite his inner shock, his fear for his life and what has happened to him, he hesitates to make a move, to throw himself at the man and give him the same ruthless assault that he had endured. No. All he wants to do is survive. Not kill.

It hits him then in what a crazy situation he's in. He had planned to meet the Detective for dinner. He hadn't expected to be dragged into an abandoned warehouse to get murdered. But the thought of the Detective reminds him of what he should do. Call for help. Call her.

His mind is immediately torn back into the moment as the man in front of him charges towards him. "No! Stay back!" he shouts, feeling the accumulation of emotions boil up inside of him, resulting in the subconscious change of his eyes to light up with hellfire. "STOP!" he roars, his voice rumbling, raw and as animalistic as when he commands the demons of hell.

But the man doesn't stop. He's not a demon, not influenced by his presence, not bowing to his will. And suddenly it happens.

Just as the man throws himself at him, their bodies tackled to the ground, he feels two things at once: A mind-numbing pain going through his back and a strange resistance in his hand that firmly holds onto the knife. He blinks and there is a moment, just a split second, of eerie quiet. Then his own scream tears through the hall and the man starts to gasp for air with a sickening gurgle in his breath, added with short grunts and groans.

He pants and pushes against the weight lying on top of him. Letting go of the handle of the knife he pushes against both shoulders of the man and rolls him off. He blinks again, vaguely noticing the man doesn't continue his attack on him, but that he's staying on the ground rasping and groaning.

It takes him a moment to find the strength to roll onto his side and look at him, but when he does, the sight shocks him. "No… No I didn't… I didn't… I didn't want that…" he whimpers, seeing the knife stuck in the man's chest all the way to the cross-guard. Blood pools rapidly around the wound and he feels the horrible déjà vu of when he had stabbed his brother Uriel. With shaking hands, he reaches out, applying pressure to the wound, but he's not sure if it's helping or making things worse. "No no no… W-why d-didn't you s-s-stop?" he shudders in despair.

More and more blood seeps from the man's chest, spreading through his green-checkered shirt and searching its way down towards the ground. He sobs, angry and confused, terrified and shocked, as the man's groans and rasps for air stop. "No… no no no… Don't…" he pleads, but it's too late. As he looks at the man's face, he sees the slack mouth and the unblinking eyes staring dull towards the ceiling.

[Carson - Dark Mist]

He feels sick. So sick. He tries to think on what to do, what needs to be done in such a situation, but his brain feels more dizzy than before and it's impossible to come up with a smart plan.

Blood loss, he thinks. That must be the reason for his dizziness.

The room spins around him as he falls back into a sitting position. His eyes look from left to right, but the shapes turn blurry. He makes out the door as lightning brightens the area outside.

Yes. Out. He needs to get out and call for help.

Hadn't he thought of that before?

Help… Yes… Someone… Anyone…

He gets back up on his feet, the corners of his vision starting to darken.

Out… Help…

He moves towards the door. One step. Two steps. Three. Four.

The darkness crawls closer as he pushes onword with shaky legs.

Five steps. Six. Almost.

It's not far anymore. He can see the clattering rain on the muddy ground outside the half-open door.

So close.

But not close enough.

While making the seventh step, his knees give in, unable to keep him up. He collapses and his tired mind succumbs to an all consuming darkness.

~o~

"Lucifer? Hey, come on. Wake up… Please, Lucifer… Open your eyes. Wake up."

He stirred with a groan, his eyes fluttering open tiredly. "Nngh…"

"Oh thank god. You're awake. Hey... "

"Detective?" he murmured, feeling tired and exhausted. Turning his head he saw that he was lying on the ground in front of the couch. With some effort, he pressed his palms against the soft carpet to push himself up and felt Chloe's arms supporting him. Still a bit shaky, he sat back on the couch.

"You got us really worried here," Chloe said, pressing her lips together to keep them from trembling. The red rimmed eyes of her, adding to the dark circles, were a silent sign that showed just how worried she had been.

"Sorry 'bout that," he muttered with a half smile that he couldn't hold for more than a second.

Linda stepped around the table and handed him a glass of water before sitting down with a bit of distance on the other side of the couch. "You were out for a good minute," she explained, concerned. "We couldn't get through to you, so we watched out that you weren't accidentally hurting yourself as you moved."

"Thank you," he breathed, feeling a soft pinch in his chest at the fact that the two of them had been so concerned over his wellbeing. But then he caught up with what she had said. "Bloody hell, a minute?! It felt like so much longer!" Taking a few deep breaths to clear his still slightly dizzy head, he rested his elbows on his knees and looked at the table. The memories that had flashed through him like someone had smacked them into him with a sledgehammer were fully present in his mind now. Every detail was there.

[Teardrops - Jurrivh]

Looking at the grid of photos, he picked up one that showed Zak lying on the ground, his dull eyes staring into nothingness. "I remember everything from the warehouse… I didn't mean to kill him…" he quietly choked, flexing his jaw as he tried to stay composed. "I told him to stop, but he suddenly threw himself at me... And then the knife- It just-" He swallowed, not daring to look at Chloe and despite his efforts, a tear broke free from behind its dam.

Chloe sat silently next to him, his words and their meaning sinking in. It had been an unfortunate accident. He hadn't intentionally used the knife, not even in active self-defence. Placing a hand against his back, she caressed over it in slow strokes and used her other to gently turn his head towards her. Reluctantly, his troubled brown eyes looked back at her, filled with guilt and sorrow. It tore at her heart to see him so devastated. "It's alright," she mouthed, the weight of emotions returning and making her voice tremble from impending tears. "It's okay, Lucifer." She watched him squeeze his eyes shut, his jaw tensing, his nostrils trembling from the effort of holding himself together. "It's not your fault," she continued, feeling her own tears spill once again.

It was a boiling tsunami of emotions that threatened to overtake him. The horrors, the pain, the suffering, the guilt and despair. Everything seemed to crush his chest and at the same time pressed upwards in his body, closing his throat with a lump and forcing more tears into his eyes. "I- I tried t-to stop the bleeding, b-but it just- It didn't work. There was just so m-much blood and then I tried to get help myself and I-" He choked out with a strained voice, and suddenly he couldn't hold back anymore. His shoulders twitched and a burst of quiet sobs shuddered over his lips.

She broke even more apart when he started crying and quickly pulled him into a tight embrace. "Shh… I'm so sorry, Lucifer. But it's not your fault," she repeated, lovingly caressing his back and combing through his hair. "You did everything you could. You were so strong..." She knew it was not really a helpful comment for the moment, but she hoped that somewhere it would resonate within him, if not now then perhaps later. "Shh… It's alright. It's gonna be okay now."

He cried and continued to sob as he held onto her, his anchor in the storming sea of emotions that threatened to smash him against the rocky shoreline. The minutes passed by until the pressure inside him became less with each of his sobs and caressing strokes from her. Eventually he fell quiet. Exhausted from the overwhelming emotions and the memories that had returned, he just accepted the warmth that seeped into him from Chloe's embrace.

"You take all the time you need Lucifer, okay? And then you tell us what happened," Chloe carefully said, turning her face to kiss his cheek, but not breaking the contact with him. She knew that he needed this, this expression of emotions, the acknowledgement of the hurting, in order to let it heal. Spotting Linda's soft, tearful smile, she could tell that her friend was also very glad about Lucifer's release of built up emotions.

It would still take some time before Lucifer would have explained all the details that had happened in the warehouse, but that was alright. She and Linda were both not going anywhere.

A/N: *waits for reactions. Chirping silence, just heavy breathing sounds and sobs can be heard* Yeah! That's what I like! :D I hope I could all pull you into the moment of Lucifer's warehouse-flashback! Aaaand… what do you think that little segment in between was all about? *evil laughter* Are you hyped for what might come next?! Leave me your thoughts, your worries, praise and criticism! I'm in for all of it! :D Stay on the lookout for the next chapter and I'll see you then!

- Luni