The dim room was the first sight that met Henry's hazel eyes when he came to. His head hurt, but he'd felt worse. Besides, the events of the evening came back to him quickly in a rush of dread, occupying his mind. Turning his back for a second – and in that second his beloved Lottie had been snatched from him by a horned automaton far taller than any that he had seen before. When he had found her in here she had lain so small and still, about to be crushed by a massive iron foot. He had seen red then, attacked without thinking and – gotten himself knocked unconscious almost immediately. At this realisation, panic crept into his mind.
Lottie, oh no, please Lottie, don't be dead, he prayed, desperately searching for his wife, his darling Lottie; the most beautiful, intelligent, stubborn, kind, loving woman in the world. Even loving to those who didn't deserve it, like him. But that didn't matter right now. What mattered was making sure she was alright. What mattered was finding his Lottie.
At last he spotted her, lying against the sacks of tea propped up by the wall. Tessa must have moved her away so she would be safe, he thought. Tessa! Henry's eyes followed his ears to the commotion in the centre of the room, where he could make out Jem and Will clung onto the back of the automaton, pestering it like midges. Tessa stood near that awful brother of hers, Nate, but no longer restrained by him. Instead the beginnings of a smile were creeping onto her face at Jem and Will's antics – she would manage for now. Charlotte needed him more. With a quick glance to make sure Nate or the automaton weren't paying attention, he sat up, ignoring the worsening in his headache, and scrambled across the rough floorboards to his Lottie.
As soon as Henry was at Charlotte's side, his heart went from hammering hard and fast to coming to a jerking halt. Charlotte, his beautiful strong Lottie, seemed so… vulnerable. Seeing her like this was killing him inside, making fear's engines work doubly fast. He pressed two fingers to her throat, some of that fear melting away like metals in his forge when he felt a pulse. It was faint, but steady; like the ticking of a tiny pocket watch. Her chest rose and fell shallowly. He lifted her up into his arms, shocked at how delicate and light she felt. It was as if she was a particularly fragile component in the machine of his life, yet the most important that if removed would cause the whole contraption to sputter and spontaneously combust. Carefully he pulled his witchlight out of his pocket and, once illuminated, set it down on the floor so he could tend to his Lottie.
She looked so pale; there was barely any colour in her cheeks. Her hair, usually neatly braided down her back, had come down and now fell loosely around her leather-clad shoulders like the leaves of a willow tree. Gently Henry pushed some wayward brown waves out of her face. Charlotte felt cold, her skin ice water. She was always cold anyway; he could remember one day when she had started shivering whilst they were walking in the park one September morning and he had draped his jacket around her shoulders. He did the same now, the gear swamping Charlotte's petite frame. She stirred, giving a little gasp of pain. Injuries, I should have checked for injuries! Henry felt like kicking himself. Running a hand through his carroty hair, he looked over his poor Lottie.
The gasp was from a couple of cracked ribs, but they hadn't come out of place so they wouldn't cause any punctured lungs. That would explain her breathing. Charlotte also had a sprained wrist, a twisted ankle, and various superficial bruises and scratches. Overall, nothing a few iratzes and some rest when they were back at The Institute couldn't fix. Carefully Henry pulled his stele from his pocket and began drawing the runes. The whole time he was cautious not to jar her ribs again, yet he never once let her go.
As the grazes faded from Charlotte's skin, the fighting got louder. Henry turned to see one of his new devices lodged in the automaton's back. It would explode soon. He scooted up as far as he could, until his back met the bricks that linked to make a corner. Then he shielded his Lottie, from the automaton, from violence, from doubt, from the world. It was then that the automaton blew up, and then that his Lottie woke up.
"Henry?" Her voice was but a whisper.
"I'm here Lottie, right here," He turned away from the metal raining down from the explosion to face her. Those beautiful eyes of hers, the colour of lacquered ebony, were wide with shock and fright. Love and protectiveness swelled up deep within Henry and he softly repeated what he had just said, over and over, running his long fingers through her hair. Then he planted a soft kiss on her forehead; then another, and another. He could vaguely hear someone scream, but he couldn't make himself pay attention to it. All that mattered was his Lottie. She still looked pale and scared, but she was warmer now, her injuries fading as he held her close and gave little reassurances. His Lottie was going to be alright.