The first thing Chloe became aware of was motion. She was moving, but she wasn't in control of it. She was... being carried?

Yes, that was it. Where was she though? It was hard to think with her head spinning like this. Feeling unable to open her eyes quite yet, she tried to focus her mind on what was happening, to get a sense of whether she was in danger.

Not wanting to alert whoever was carrying her to her ever growing consciousness, she forced her body to remain limp. They must have picked up on something though, because suddenly they halted. She thought she heard her name, but it was a voice she couldn't quite place. God, her head hurt. The ache in her chest seemed to make sense somehow, but what else had happened to her?

She couldn't remember.

They started pushing forward again, albeit at a slower pace than before. It wasn't a smooth journey either, the strong arms holding her in an iron grip doing little to soften the jolts from every step they took. One, two, three, four... then they would stop for a few seconds before setting off once more, slowly continuing their descent.

Descent.

That made sense. Stairs would explain the jostling, but not why they kept stopping.

She concentrated on what she could hear. The sound of heavy breathing, the thump of laboured footsteps hitting each step. Whoever was holding her was obviously tiring. That was good, if she needed to fight to get free it made success possible. The more time that passed, the stronger she felt.

Suddenly she found herself crushed closer as her body started to slip out of the grasp of whoever was carrying her, only one arm wrapped around her now as they struggled to hold on. The smell of expensive cologne and cigarettes hit her, and she smiled at the familiarity. Lucifer. She breathed a sigh of relief. Of course it was him, he was always the one to carry her away to safety.

Managing to crack her eyes open for a second, she found him leaning over her, his face turned away, one arm braced against the wall while the other still held her close. Smiling, she nestled in further as he adjusted his grip, cradling her to him as he righted himself. She would never admit it, but she loved being in his arms. He made her feel so protected, so cherished, so sa...

Not safe.

The memory hit her full force and panic overwhelmed her. Fight or flight took over and she opted for both as she attempted to twist away from him. From the Devil. It was no good though, for he simply tightened his embrace until she found she couldn't move at all. The world swayed around her as he turned and slowly, carefully, lowered her to the floor. She scrambled backwards, smacking into the opposite wall in her desperate attempt to flee.

The impact brought her to her senses, and her training kicked in as she searched for a means of escape. Going down would involve getting past him, but the other option... well that meant climbing stairs and she didn't know if she was capable of that yet. She looked above, taking in the many flights spiraling above her in the near darkness. Just how far had he carried her, anyway?

Afraid of what she might see if she so much as glanced in his direction, she focused on their surroundings instead. The space was dimly lit, with bulkhead lights on each level that flickered in and out of existence at irregular intervals. It didn't appear to be an area that was used often, dust and dirt covering the steps, graffiti and water stains decorating the walls. A back entrance to the loft perhaps, the perfect route to take if you didn't want to be seen.

After a few minutes had ticked by, she cautiously turned her attention to the man in front of her, relieved not to find red eyes staring back at her. Man was the wrong word to use now she supposed. The landing they were on was small, and even with her as far away from him as possible their feet were almost touching. He was shrouded in the shadows, his black suit blending in with the dark stain behind him.

The light overhead blinked on and off, revealing that he looked like Lucifer again, but not a Lucifer she'd ever seen before. He sat opposite her, his legs gathered against his chest, arms holding his knees as he leaned forward to rest his head there, his eyes fixed on the floor below. Making himself as small and non-threatening as possible, she realised.

He must have felt the weight of her gaze for the next time the light above him sprang back to life he was staring at her, his face betraying a curious kind of trepidation. It was obvious he wanted to say something, he just didn't know what. Any other day a Lucifer lost for words would have been shocking. But today was not any other day. He sighed as they were plunged into twilight once more, and she braced herself for whatever he'd decided upon. For what could he say, after what she'd just seen?

"Be not afraid..." was the last thing she expected to come out of his mouth. Even with the lack of light, she could still make out the look of disgust on his face as he said it. He sounded like something out of the bible.

Because he was something out of the bible.

Hysteria rose, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to keep it from bubbling out. Lucifer, her Lucifer, was a goddamn angel. Literally.

They sat there together for what seemed like an eternity. He shifted awkwardly in the darkness as he watched her, not saying another word. Meanwhile, her heart felt like it was trying to beat out of her chest. Gradually though, her breathing evened out and she began to regain her composure. He wasn't going to hurt her, she was sure of that. He'd never hurt her before, so why would he start now? In truth he seemed to be just as afraid as she was, judging by how much he was trembling. She swallowed, trying to find her voice. "Lucifer..."

His eyes snapped to hers. "Don't let me keep you, Detective. It would be best for both of us if you leave." He said leave, but she knew what he meant. Run away. In response, her eyes drifted towards the way out. It would be so easy to go. To walk down those stairs and never look back. It seemed Lucifer trying to make it easier for her as well, pushing himself even further into the corner, away from the stairs.

The second he moved though, she saw him wince, heard his sharp intake of breath.

He was injured.

And just like that, everything else fell away. Shoving all thoughts of who he really was, what he really was, aside, she tentatively moved towards him. That was for later. Only one thing mattered right now. He was her partner, and he was in pain. She saw him close his eyes, an obvious attempt to shield himself from watching her leave, only for them to fly open again when he realised she hadn't.

"You're hurt." It wasn't a question. Now that she was close enough to really look at him, she could see how pale he was, paler than he should be even in this light. Despite no longer carrying her, he still sounded like he was struggling to catch his breath. Evidently surprised by the fact that she even cared, he frowned as she came closer. Then his features became stoic once more.

"Nothing to trouble yourself with, Detective. You can go." Turning his head away, he stared at the wall, his muscles tense and quivering with the effort of hiding what was wrong. She crouched down beside him, her concern chasing away the last of her vertigo. Reaching out, she gently touched the side of his face, silently asking him to look her again. He flinched at the contact, but didn't resist.

Once she had his attention, she smiled softly. "Well we both know I'm not going to do that."

When the light above his head blinked on again, it showed a strange mix of confusion and wonder in his eyes, as though he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. And she had to admit, there was a voice in her head that couldn't believe what she was doing. But she had to help. It was what they did for each other, what they'd always done for each other from the moment they met.

Placing her hand on his shoulder, she carefully drew him backwards until he was sat up straight, not missing the way he gritted his teeth together during the process. It worried her; with the exception of the time she'd shot him, he'd rarely ever seemed bothered by injury. If anything, he had a tendency to deliberately put himself in harm's way, consequences be damned.

She paused for a moment.

There was something important about that, niggling at the back of her mind. What it was though, she wasn't sure.

He continued to watch her curiously, clearly expecting her to bolt at any moment. There was a part of her that still wanted to. Resisting the urge, she took a deep breath to steady herself, concentrating on the task in front of her. The first thing she could see in the dimness was a rather nasty cut on his arm, but that didn't explain the amount of pain he was in. Leaning forward to examine the rest of him, she braced a hand against the wall beside his head, not wanting to risk losing her balance and fall. No sooner had she touched it though than she yanked her hand away, almost doing the exact thing she'd been trying to avoid.

The wall was wet. Not just damp, but actually coated with something that was now covering her palm. Disgusted, she went to wipe it on her jeans, but stopped as an acrid smell hit her nose that was all too familiar.

Blood.

That was the first time that she really looked at the wall behind him, the first time she properly took in what she could see. The stain started out high above her, at almost the same height Lucifer was. It was as though someone had dragged a large mop down the wall, dipped in blood. When the light over their heads flared once more, she could see even more pooled below.

Tentatively, even though she knew the answer, she used her other hand to lightly touch the back of his jacket. It was soaked through. The implications of that chilled her to the bone. He was seriously injured, yet he'd carried her all this way. She thought he'd lowered her to the floor when she struggled rather than drop her, but no. He'd collapsed.

And slid down the damn wall.

He must have been shot, there was no other explanation. But how many times? The memory of all of those guns pointed at them both was horrifying. He'd gotten her to safety… but when he'd returned…

All of this couldn't have come from one bullet. She was assuming, hoping, that the shots had at least been through and through; there was very little she could do for him otherwise. Calling an ambulance was obviously out of the question. It was at that moment that she finally remembered her phone. Fishing it out from her pocket, she turned on the screen. Not the most ideal light source, but it was better than what she had at the moment.

Lucifer had fallen strangely silent. She wondered for a moment if he was still conscious, but he remained sat upright with his back held deliberately away from the wall, tremors running through his frame as he fought to stay still. His eyes were closed, and she could tell he was actively trying to control his breathing. She realised then that he wasn't doing it for his benefit, but hers. He was still trying not to frighten her. "Hey," she said softly, lightly touching his arm, "It's okay. Everything's okay."

He cracked one eye open to look at her. "Yes, Detective. I noticed how okay everything was when you collapsed," he said, sarcasm lacing his every word. Ah. That explained her head then; she must have hit it on the stairs when she fell.

Still, it was reassuring to know that even a life threatening injury didn't stop Lucifer from being Lucifer. It was a reminder she desperately needed right now, something to hold onto every time she felt the panic begin to rise up again.

He was still him. She was still her. They were partners. Friends. More than that even. Or they had been. It was another thing she couldn't face thinking about at the moment.

"Oh, because if you discovered I was actually an angel one day you'd be perfectly fine with it I suppose? No freak outs whatsoever?" she replied absentmindedly, concentrating on her task of slowly peeling his jacket away from his chest as she tried to get a better look. Her heart skipped a beat as she ran the light from her phone over his shirt; there must have been at least ten bullet holes there. And yet, no blood.

His breath hitched for a second as she continued her exploration, pulling his shirt free of his trousers. Then she heard him grumble, "Not an angel." Whether he meant her or himself she wasn't sure, but she didn't exactly have time to dwell on it too much. Not when she was far too busy trying to work out how there wasn't a single mark on him underneath his shirt. No points of entry, no damage at all.

"There's no wound or blood."

Wasn't that what he'd told her once when she'd questioned him about getting shot? She ran a hand over his skin, barely registering the way he swallowed heavily as she touched him.

"I'm sorry," he said, breaking the silence that had suddenly fallen between them. She looked at him questioningly. "That I didn't catch you, when you fell."

He was talking about after she'd seen him. But he'd been halfway across the room, and in just as much shock as she was, judging by the look on his… face.

Oh God, his face.

Wait. Was it God that did that to him?

The panic swelled inside her again as she tried to recall what little she knew of the bible. So many questions, so much she didn't know.

Not the time... Not the time...

Too late she realised she'd actually been muttering the words out loud. When he looked at her, worry filled his eyes. Hesitantly, he covered her hand that remained on his arm with his own in an attempt to comfort her. And to her shame, she pulled away. Instantly he dropped his gaze to the floor again. A full minute passed before she could force herself to focus on what needed to be done. "Can you stand?" she asked, relieved at how steady she sounded.

He nodded, apparently unwilling to trust his own voice right then. Gradually he began to rise, a painful hiss escaping him as he did so. Reaching out, he grabbed the hand rail, the metal groaning and twisting under his grip. It was all too easy to forget just how strong he was sometimes, something which of course made perfect sense now.

All those times he'd lifted men twice his size with one hand. Never mind when he'd thrown someone twelve feet through a window like it was nothing. She'd gone over the footage of that particular incident again and again, trying to fathom how it was possible. One bullet though, one piece of evidence that contradicted what he'd been saying had been enough for her to brush him off as delusional.

She'd been a fool.

They both stood there silently as she wondered how to proceed. She was sure that they must be near the bottom of the building by now; there couldn't be that many more flights left to tackle. Hopefully, together, they could manage it. She wasn't sure how to support him without touching his back though, and by the looks of him he was definitely going to need that help. His pallor had worsened considerably since he'd risen, and now that he was closer to the light she could see the sheen on his face. He was sweating. She didn't think she'd ever seen him sweat.

Woefully she cast a glance back to the wall, taking in the blood he'd left there. She had to keep him alive, no matter what. The future she'd thought they would have together might have changed now, but there was still a future nonetheless. And he needed to be there for that.

Maneuvering herself into his side, she carefully placed his arm across her shoulders, trying not to jostle him. He looked down at her in shock, that she dared come so close to him. She shrugged slightly, before gently urging him forward. The first step was the worst, feeling him shudder against her as he began moving, but after that they made agonisingly slow but steady progress.

When they reached the next landing he moved away from her, leaning sideways against the wall as he rested. She waited until his breathing evened out before speaking. "Why'd you carry me all this way anyway?"

Wearily he looked at her. "Wasn't sure," he said quietly, "who was coming." He wavered as he pushed himself away from the wall, and instantly she moved to his side again. "More of Cain's men… backup unit…" Pausing, he took a few seconds to regain his balance, leaning heavily onto her shoulders. "Either way, bodies on the floor, you unconscious… didn't look good." Indicating they should start moving again, he pushed against her slightly, but as they reached the first step, he wavered. "And I… I couldn't leave you."

The words I would never leave you were left unspoken yet she heard them anyway. What she had done to inspire such devotion from a creature such as him, she would never understand. But this wasn't a game, of that she was certain. For him, what was between them, whatever it was, it was real. She wasn't some way for him to amuse himself for a few years of his immortal life.

Or what was supposed to be an immortal life anyway. Lucifer was relying on her more and more for support now, and her body was starting to protest. She'd never realised before just how heavy he was. It was as if he weighed twice as much as a man his size should.

Finally, she could see light at the bottom of the stairwell. Breathing a sigh of relief, she nudged her partner, who had taken to feeling his way down the steps rather than looking, his eyes closed in exhaustion. The grip he had on the hand rail had grown progressively weaker, the visible indentations he'd been leaving every time he grabbed it fading away. They were so close now. So close that perhaps she hurried without meaning to, or maybe he did, but regardless, the result was the same.

He stumbled, and he fell.

His cry of agony shattered the silence as he hit the staircase with a sickening thud. He slid down the last few remaining steps until his feet touched the floor, at which point he immediately arched his back away from the rough edges of the stairs, throwing his head back towards her.

She froze.

His eyes.

Oh God, his eyes.

Had they glowed like that upstairs? Had she just not noticed? They blazed brightly in the darkness, lit with raging fire from that writhed and consumed, both beckoning and repulsing her all at the same time. Unconsciously, much like she had in the loft, she tried to back away from him. It was her foot hitting the stair behind that made her realise what she was doing, made her realise that she was ready to abandon the man twisting with pain in front of her all over again.

Get it together, Decker.

Determinedly, she forced herself to take that first step down towards him. After that, it was easy, but before she could reach him fully she saw him take hold of one of the nearby spindles, the metal groaning almost as loudly as him as he used it to help wrench himself onto his side. The effort cost him dearly, and the worrying sound of his gasping breaths as he attempted to ride out the pain helped chase back any remaining reticence she might have had.

Rounding the staircase, she found him lying almost deathly still, his eyes screwed tightly shut, hand still clenched around the railing. She brushed her fingers over his, and he inhaled sharply, flinching away.

"I'm sorry," he forced out, before she had a chance to say anything. "I didn't mean to-"

"Lucifer, it's fine," she said hurriedly. He scoffed, and she couldn't exactly blame him for not believing her. She reached out for him again, squeezing his fingers lightly. "Look. I'm going to get scared, okay? Today… to say today hasn't been easy would be the understatement of the century. But right now? I'm more scared for you than I am of you." His hand twitched under hers, and slowly he brought himself to look at her. The flames inside his eyes were extinguished, but they still remained unrecognisable, filled with a fear all of his own.

She reached for her phone. "I can't do this by myself," she said. "We need help." He gave no response, continuing to look at her blearily. She got the distinct impression he was giving up. "Lucifer!" she urged, wishing she could shake him into action but not daring to do so. The last thing she wanted to do was cause him further injury. "Who can I call? Your brother?"

He shook his head slightly. "Gone, remember?" There was a bitterness in his voice that she didn't understand, along with an unmistakable sadness.

"But surely we can…"

Another shake of his head. "He's gone home." He raised his eyes to the ceiling and sighed. "His home, anyway."

Oh. Oh.

She hadn't even started to think about the other implications of what she now knew to be true. Amenadiel was an angel. Maze was a…

Shit.

Her heart turned to ice as the realisation kicked in. A demon. The Devil. Pierce.

She'd left them all alone with her daughter.

What kind of people-

No.

What kind of monsters had she allowed into their lives?

What kind of mother was she?

Tears filled her eyes and she slammed them shut, turning away from the stairs. She couldn't do this. She couldn't afford to lose it right now. Wrapping her arms tight around her chest, she tried not to think about anything but the need to breathe.

In. Out. In. Out.

Lucifer had never hurt Trixie. Maze had never hurt Trixie, not intentionally anyway. And Pierce… the thought chilled her to the bone. Another thing to shove into another box, another thing to bury in the back of her mind. It was getting crowded in there, and right now, she felt very close to breaking.

"Detective?" Lucifer's voice came from behind her, small and concerned. Taking a shaky breath, she turned back to face him, and face the only option she had left available to her.

"I'm calling Maze," she said, bringing up the bounty hunter's contact details on her phone. No sooner had she done that though than Lucifer's hand shot out from the railing, clamping around her wrist like a vice. Not enough to hurt her, but not a grip that would allow her to continue either.

"No. Not her."

He practically growled the words, and for a moment she thought she saw those embers in his eyes flare to life once more. Instinctively she tried to prise her hand away. He let her go immediately, looking down at the floor with contrition. "She's half the reason we're in this bloody mess," he said bitterly.

We're. Not I'm. We're.

Maze had something to do with this. Something to do with Pierce? Maze, who was supposed to be her friend. Maze, who was a demon. Maze… who wasn't going to be able to help them.

The betrayal stung. It was yet another thing to put off thinking about, another question added to the string around her chest, tightening more with each new revelation, making it harder to breathe. "Well who can I call then?" she said. It was a plea she needed to make, but she hated, hated how weak she sounded. Her headache had returned, sharp lightning flashing through her brain just at the time she needed it the least.

Lucifer didn't reply, his eyes still fixed on the ground, the ragged breath being torn from his lungs the only sound. A slight tremor ran through him, and she wasn't sure if it was from anger or from shock. "Lucifer!" she snapped, sharper than she intended, her worry beginning to make her desperate.

His head bowed even further. "Linda," he said quietly as he exhaled. "You can call Linda."

Time seemed to slow. "She knows, doesn't she?"

Silence.

"Doesn't she?"

He nodded.

It was too much. She'd reached the tipping point, the final revelation in a deluge that had broken through the barrier she had constructed in her mind, the only thing left allowing her to function. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, and she wondered if they sounded as much like sobs to him as they did to her.

She had to get away. Phone still clutched in her hand, she focused all her energy on forcing herself to move towards the exit. At the edges of her consciousness, she thought she heard him call weakly after her, but it didn't stop her from taking another step. And another. But when he said her actual name... it was enough that when she reached the door, she stopped. She couldn't leave him. Yes, she couldn't bring herself to look at him right now, but she couldn't just leave him either.

Decision made, she steeled herself before pivoting on her heels and walking back to the stairs. To the stairs, and up the stairs, climbing past Lucifer's prone body and continuing until she was on the landing two flights above. There, she leant against the wall, staring at her phone screen blankly.

He'd told her. He'd told Linda.

But not her.

That wasn't right though, was it? He told everyone. He'd always been truthful about who he was. Which meant… which meant for Linda to believe him...

It was ironic really, how much of her fell apart at the same time she put the pieces together. Linda knew in the same way that Chloe knew… because she'd seen the same thing Chloe had. And as much as she tried to tell herself that perhaps he hadn't meant for it to happen… that perhaps the circumstances had been the same... some part of her knew that wasn't how it had gone down.

He'd proved it to her.

It made sense really, even she could admit that. Linda was his therapist. And setting aside the ridiculous notion of the Devil even having a therapist, if he wanted her to help him, well, Lucifer would have had to have been honest with her, wouldn't he? Honest, and open.

Like he was supposed to be with his partner.

Like he was supposed to be with his friend.

Like he was supposed to be with her.

And it hurt.

When her legs began to give way, she let herself fall to the hard concrete below, curling her knees up close to her chest. She felt numb.

Her dim surroundings seemed fitting really, as the colour drained from her world. Little by little, blow by blow, everything that had happened had chipped away at the future she'd thought ahead of her. Ahead of them both. And now, she found herself wondering if there was anything left.

A groan came from below, quickly followed by the sound of retching. It was enough to bring her back to the present, at least enough to pull up Linda's contact details up on her phone. She shivered as she dialled, and told herself it was because of the cold wall at her back. Shock was something she really couldn't afford right now. And neither could he.

All she could do was hope beyond hope that Linda wasn't in session. She had no idea what she was going to do if she was. If she were honest, she didn't know what she was going to do even with her friend's help, but it was better than trying to handle this on her own.

"Chloe?" Linda answered, "Now really isn't a good time…" Her words were hurried and hushed. The distinct click of a door being closed could be heard down the line as the therapist moved into another room.

Chloe opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a unrestrained sob. "Chloe? Chloe, what's wrong?" Linda's concern grounded her slightly, and she tried to make herself say something, anything. Everything would be okay if she could just get help.

That was what she told herself, over and over.

"It's Lucifer," she finally managed to choke out. "He needs you."

She could have sworn she heard Linda breathe a sigh of relief. "Tell him if he needs an emergency appointment I can come to him, but it's not convenient for me to have anyone at the office right now. I can only deal with one celes- with one patient at a time."

The silence that followed indicated that it was was Chloe's turn to speak, but yet again she couldn't seem to find the words. Why was this so hard? She knew what she needed to say, so why couldn't she just say it?

"...Chloe?"

"...Chloe?"

"He's the Devil."

The truth was torn from her throat, and it shattered her. Saying it out loud had made it all far too real. The words were a kick to the stomach, the feel of her heart being ripped from her chest.

What she had to say next though, that was even harder. "He's the Devil… and I think he's dying."

Linda was talking, but Chloe was lost, tears streaming down her cheeks as the reality of the day's events continued to sink in. "Oh god, Linda… there's so much blood… I don't know what to do…" she said, stuttering between short, convulsive gasps.

"Chloe, I need you to take some deep breaths for me, okay? Tell me where you are."

After a few more moments of panic, she was able to do exactly that. The door to the room Linda was in opened again, and a muffled voice started speaking in the background. With the therapist otherwise occupied, Chloe rested her head back against the wall, closing her eyes and letting the hand holding her phone fall to the floor, as she tried to centre herself.

It was then that she heard a noise from above.

She jerked upright. Had that been someone talking? She couldn't quite tell. Straining, she tried to listen harder, but all she could hear were the sounds from her phone, which were no longer indistinct.

"Maze!" she heard Linda exclaim as she lifted the phone to her ear again.

"Can you leave him?" Maze's sharp tone sliced through the airwaves, and for a moment Chloe was unable to say anything at all, taken back by both the demon's sudden appearance on the call and her unfathomable question.

"What…?" she eventually replied, dumbfounded.

"Can. You. Leave. Him?" Maze repeated, as if she were talking to a child. Worse than that actually, because she'd never heard her talk to Trixie that way.

Chloe snapped. "No, I can't leave him. Pierce is dead, Lucifer is bleeding out, and I have no idea whether backup is going to find us first, or someone else entirely. So if you actually have any helpful suggestions, now's the time."

Linda asked a question that Chloe couldn't quite hear, and the demon grumbled back at her. The only words she caught were, "She needs to know." Whatever Maze was talking about though, it didn't seem like she was about to find out anytime soon.

"Fine. Get him out of there. We're on our way."

"Wait!" Chloe said hurriedly. "It's not that easy! I'm not sure he can even stand, never mind walk. We'll just have to wait here and hope-"

The last thing she expected to hear in response was laughter. "Easy? Have you not been paying attention this entire time? It's exactly that easy. You ask him to jump, and that idiot will ask off which building. If you tell him to move, he'll move."

Chloe couldn't believe what she was hearing. Maze did know she was talking about Lucifer, right? Lucifer who didn't listen to a word she said half the time? "Ma-" she started to protest, but the bounty hunter had already ended the call.

"Great. Just great," she muttered to herself. Another noise came from above, and this time it was definitely the sound of voices. Shoving the phone back in her pocket, she moved quietly and quickly down the stairs, coming to a halt when she saw Lucifer, who was now sat upright with his head in his hands. Vomit coated the steps in front of him, and she tried not to think about just how much red she could see there.

"That… was not pleasant," he said as she approached, the shaking of his body creeping into his voice now.

She sank down onto the step beside him. "You should have waited for me to help you up," she replied, lightly chastising. He was going to need her help a lot in a minute, and she needed to get him to accept that. The last thing she needed was for that famous Morningstar pride to kick in.

"I heard voices," he said, shifting slightly on the step and stiffly straightening his back as much as he could before looking at her. "Thought you might need my help."

"Lucifer…" She shook her head in exasperation. "The only person you need to be helping right now is yourself."

Standing, she moved to the bottom of the stairwell, taking care where she stood, and held out her hand. He looked at her from under thick dark eyelashes, his eyes deadly serious. "I've fought through worse, Detective."

Somehow, she didn't doubt him for a second.

"I don't need you to fight, Lucifer, I need you to leave."

He blinked in surprise, and then his face fell into resignation. "Of course. As you pointed out though, I find myself somewhat indisposed at the moment, so if you don't mind…" He gestured towards the door, and it was then she realised her mistake.

"With me, Lucifer, I need you to leave with me. We can't just stay here waiting for whoever's coming."

She didn't think she'd ever seen him look so worried. "In all honesty, Detective…" he said, dropping his gaze to stared at the floor beneath her feet, "I'm not sure I can." He tried to push himself up off the stairs slightly to demonstrate, promptly falling back down again as his entire body convulsed and he hissed in pain.

Was Maze right? Did she really hold that much power over him as she could make him do this? Should she make him do this? It could be Dan and Ella upstairs. Someone who could help them. In her heart of hearts though, she knew that wasn't the case. She highly doubted backup were here yet either. Whoever was up there, they were bad news for Lucifer.

And she wouldn't let them take him.

"Stand up."

His head jerked up towards her, his expression bewildered. "I beg your pardon?"

"Lucifer, stand up. We have to go."

For a moment, he looked like a lost little boy, unable to understand why someone wanted to cause him hurt. A thought flashed through her mind; had he looked like that the day they kicked him out of Heaven?

"Lucifer, please. You have to do this. For me."

He took her hand.