Notes: Thank you to my beta Maimat

Whumptober #16 Pinned Down, #19 Asphyxiation

Breathe

by

Miah . Arthur

"Lucifer, wait!" The Detective called after him from behind the metal gate that had clanged shut between them.

Lucifer smiled. He hadn't had a good stalk in far too long. With the Detective safely behind the gate, he was free to pursue the villain in his own fashion.

Dennis Smith was a very bad man, who liked to hurt very young boys. There were special places in Hell for such monsters, and Lucifer wouldn't mind terribly much if this monster jumped from a rooftop to avoid facing the Devil. He'd even left Amenadiel alone on the search for Mum for this miscreant.

He let Hellfire light his eyes as his long stride carried him inexorably closer to his prey.

He hadn't counted on Smithie having an accomplice. Nothing in the Detective's files indicated an collaborator. He heard the machinery and looked up just as a small crate hurtled toward his head. He threw an arm up, intending to bat it away, but the impact crushed against his arm. The corner of the box nicked his temple and he crumpled, unable to coordinate himself beyond the blurring of his vision and the intense pain in his arm.

There was another mighty crash of machinery against the shelving system, and heavy wooden crates smashed into the concrete around him. He needed to… to… It was hard to think.

Another crash and metal groaned as it twisted and snapped under the onslaught. It hit the floor, the thick bar of a shelf landing across his lower legs with bone shattering force, bounced and hit again. It settled, the grinding of bone fragments together louder in his ears than the lingering reverberations of the crash. A crate, still in place on the top of the shelf, slammed into Lucifer's chest and stomach, forcing the air from his lungs.

"Lucifer?"

Warm, comforting hands touched his face, stroked through his hair. He gasped. His chest and stomach couldn't expand. He couldn't pull air into his lungs. Panic shot through him. His eyes snapped open. The Detective was speaking. Her mouth was moving, but the sound was hollow, like listening to her through a wind tunnel. Something was on him. Stopping him from breathing. He shifted, intent on throwing the offending weight off him.

Pain screamed at him. His arm, his legs, his chest and back and stomach. His head. He tested his body more slowly. His left arm was not injured. Darkness welled at the edges of his vision. The Detective was too near, and he didn't have the air he needed to ask her to leave. With all the strength he could muster, he lifted with his left arm. The crate shifted marginally. It was enough for him to draw in a torturous gasp. He could hear clearly. The black dots vanished from his vision.

"Did you move that?"

His arm shook from the effort of keeping the crate raised. Something in his abdomen protested vehemently. "Yes!" he gasped. "Can't hold it—"

He heard her shuffle behind him. Metal scraped the floor beside his head and bumped into the top of the crate near his shoulder.

"A little higher, Lucifer. Please. Just a little higher!"

He couldn't ignore a plea like that from her. He pulled in as much air as he could and channeled all his energy into lifting. Something gave way inside his abdomen, intense pain coursed through him, and his arm collapsed. The crate didn't come down, though.

"Did it work? Can you breath?" Her face appeared above him, despair etched into her features. "Lucifer, hold on!" Her hands ran over his neck and face, everything she could reach. "Look at me, Lucifer. Come on, focus."

"Detective?"

"Help is on the way. Don't talk. Just breathe. Okay. Just breathe."

He pulled a breath in. His chest barely expanded under the heavy weight pressing down on his stomach, crushing his pelvis, pressing him ever harder against the unyielding concrete floor. This was all wrong. It shouldn't hurt. He should be able to move. He needed to move!

The Detective's frantic voice receded again. All his focus diverted to willing air into his burning lungs, but there was no room. His chest couldn't expand to draw in breath.

Pray.

The command filtered through his sluggish mind. And he closed his eyes. Concentrated on Amenadiel.

Help. Brother, I need you.

Did you find Mom?

...help...can't breathe…

A sense of alarm came from Amenadiel and the Detective's voice, the sounds of sirens, the creak of the metal and crates stopped.

The weight and pressure left his torso, and Lucifer drew in a deep breath. He coughed. Pain tore through his guts. He tried to curl around it, but his legs were still trapped. Everything screamed at him.

Metal groaned and large hands slid under his shoulders and knees. A whoosh of wings and they were in his penthouse. Amenadiel lay him on the couch and knelt beside him. "Easy, Luci. Just breathe."

Lucifer gasped and gulped for air, but each breath came easier. His vision cleared, but the pain in his abdomen grew. His darting gaze landed on Amenadiel. Nausea swept over him, worsening by the non-second.

His brother frowned. "How bad is it, Luci? I can only keep the world slowed down for so long."

"Going to"—he gagged—"goin—"he gagged again, and Amenadiel pulled him over onto his side. Just in time for bright red vomitus to spew out of his mouth directly onto Amenadiel's cardigan covered chest.

The pain lessoned a little and he smirked at Amenadiel's shouts of disgust as he stalked off toward the bathroom. Lucifer let his eyes sink closed. He'd be okay. He just needed rest.

"Luci. Luci, wake up." Amenadiel tapped his cheek.

Prying his eyes open, Lucifer saw that Amenadiel was lightly sweating and his face was lined with strain.

"How broken are you? I cannot hold time much longer. I have to get you back."

Lucifer took a deep breath and patted his stomach with his left hand. "Insides are where they should be." He tried to clench his fist and couldn't. He couldn't move his feet without immense pain either. Both of his legs were broken in multiple places. And… He shifted on the couch..and his pelvis was broken, shattered into multiple segments.

"I'm not walking out of there with the Detective nearby. Bones need a lot more time."

"I'll arrange the stuff on top of you so that you can breath and not get internal injuries again."

Lucifer held up his good hand when Amenadiel reached for him. "Be careful, my pelvis is in pieces. And don't we have time for a drink before you bury me again?"

Amenadiel reached behind him and retrieved a half full tumbler. "I anticipated that request. Here." he slid one arm under Lucifer's shoulders and lifted him enough that he could drink the whisky. He set the glass aside. "Are you ready, Luci?"

Lucifer nodded.

Amenadiel was careful. Lucifer didn't bother to suppress the hiss of pain when Amenadiel picked him up. A whoosh of wings and they were back in the warehouse. The Detective looking desperate and scared at the empty place he should be. Amenadiel was gentle as he placed Lucifer back into the wreckage. Lucifer scoffed lightly. Surprised considering Amenadiel'd just been trying to kill him last week.

He bent the metal of the shelving slightly so that it pressed on Lucifer's legs when he shifted it into place.

"That bloody well, hurts, brother!"

"And you know that if they find you uninjured and not trapped, there will be too many questions."

"Well did you have to leave so much pressure?"

Amenadiel gave him a much put upon glare, and Lucifer fell silent.

Before he placed the crate over Lucifer's abdomen, Amenadiel found chunks of metal and placed them so they would support the weight of the crate. The fit would still be tight, but not gut bustingly, no breathing tight. He placed the crate. Lucifer was trapped. He'd let himself be trapped.

"Can you breathe?"

He nodded, not trusting his voice to not betray the rising panic he felt. Amenadiel patted him on the cheek, a gesture Lucifer hated. "I'll be nearby. If they accidentally crush you trying to move this, I can stop time for a short while." He smirked and tapped the crate. "You really couldn't lift this?"

"You try it with half your bones broken," Lucifer ground out.

Amenadiel snorted. "I'm not the one turning mortal."