WARNING: Sooooooooooooooooooo, this is the chapter is decidedly not cheery and is where the story earns its rating. And not in the happy way. More in a… violent and swearing sort of way…

A/N: This chapter will leave you wanting to do nothing but hug these two…I know I am…Sorry for going from lighthearted to…well, you'll see…

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The fourth time Cain found himself in the care of DG, he was not about to argue with her.

Cain was out of breath, standing at the feet of the man he had finally knocked unconscious.

He took a moment to assure himself that the fight was actually over, he was still standing in DG's bathroom, and DG was –

He looked around wildly. Shit, where is she?

He went to call out to her, but could only grunt and try and swallow, catching his breath. He hobbled over to the doorway where he propped himself up with his forearm, still trying to recover his breath.

"Deeg?" he said with as much urgency as he could muster. He would never forgive himself if she-

She spun around the other door that led to her sitting room with a leg of an end table in her hands held like a bat. The same end table, he noted, that he had last seen her being thrown into as his own fight had tumbled into the next room.

"Where is he?" he asked, taking note of the blood on the end of her stick.

She gulped, wide eyed.

"I think I killed him…"

His breathing had been getting deeper, but it hitched slightly at that. His breath shuddered as he exhaled.

"Oh…" He looked to the floor, searching for something to say. He was relieved that he didn't have another one to take care of, but was upset she had to fight for herself. And kill for herself.

"You?" she asked, her voice barely hiding its quake. His eyes flickered to the corner of the bedroom she couldn't see and then looked over his shoulder at the man crumpled on the floor.

"They're not moving anytime soon…" As he spoke, his eyes brushed over the damage in the bathroom.

Cain re-watched this portion of the fight in his mind as he looked it over. The vanity was cracked, bits of mirror all over the counter and floor from when he was thrown against it. DG's toiletries were strewn all over the floor when Cain fought to right himself and the two of them exchanged blows. A towel rod was ripped from the wall by the assailant, but Cain was able to block his attacks for the most part.

The shower curtain was hanging on by two rings from where Cain kicked the man away and into the tub, knocking the back of his head against the tile. He had managed to scramble up slightly, but not before Cain grabbed DG's hair-dryer-machine and cracked him in the skull like he would with the butt of his gun. He had instantly collapsed to where he lay now, sprawled by the toilet, one leg still in the bathtub.

"Does it hurt?" DG's voice sounded small.

He looked back to her and noticed she had lowered her weapon and was staring at the side of his face. He brushed the back of his hand against it and was surprised to feels bits of the mirror fall away.

Uh oh…

He looked at his hand, only to find it smeared with blood. He tried to gauge how much pain he was in.

He'll live…

He glanced up at DG with a shrug and began to look her over for injuries. She seemed fine, just severely shaken. The bedroom between them however… It showed more signs of a struggle, or to be more specific, where Cain's struggle had also been. Three people had crashed into the room and only two had left. The third lay in the far corner, his own knife protruding from his gut.

Cain started to limp towards DG and the sitting room, where the fight had begun.

She watched him dazedly before realizing she should move out of the way, help him, or…something. She shifted slightly and watched his face as he rounded the corner. He looked quickly back to her, concerned.

"Where is he?" Another dose of adrenaline, or what he had left, tried to spring to life as he saw the room was empty. He didn't know if he could fight off another one.

She lifted her chin towards the balcony, where the assailants had come in.

"He went down a bit faster than he came up…"

He looked back at her, a bit surprised that she was almost making light of it. Then he took in her face, and the way she still couldn't find it in herself to move, and realized she had no idea how to cope with what just happened.

"Come on," he said, holding out a guiding hand behind her back and tilting his head towards the door leading to the hallway. "We need to get you out of here…notify the guards…"

Instead of moving to the hallway, DG wrapped her arms lightly around his middle and hugged him. Her face stayed pressed against his chest for a few moments and Cain wrapped his arm around her shoulders, unsure of what to do. His brow furrowed in concern.

"You're alright, DG…" he said quietly. "You did what you had to. You're safe."

"I wasn't worried about me," came her muffled response.

He tensed, a flurry of emotions bubbling up in him that he didn't know what to do with. He managed to pat her on the back and take a step back.

"Let's get cleaned up…" he murmured, guiding her to the door.

After notifying the guards, promising to ream them later for not being near enough to help, and assuring the small crew they had at the Central City Palace with them that they were in fact, going to live just fine thank you, they finally reached Cain's room.

As if under some unspoken agreement, DG was going to stay with him that night. There was no way she could go back to her room now. She disappeared into his bathroom to clean up and gather supplies to clean his wounds. He changed into sleep pants and sat down gingerly on his bed while she was gone.

Boy, was he sore.

He peeled off his shirt. 'Another one, ruined,' he thought sadly.

The door to the bathroom opened and he glanced up, his breath catching in his throat. DG had pulled her hair up in a low, messy bun, and was wearing nothing but the long button down shirt he had handed her earlier. Her bare legs screamed for attention and he had to force himself to keep his eyes elsewhere.

"Oh my god," she said slowly, sounding astonished.

He realized she was looking at his bare chest. He almost felt smug until he looked down and saw a large bruise on his two left lower ribs. Along with all of his scars.

"I'm fine," he said automatically.

"No you're not, Cain," she moved towards him. "You're…oh my god…" she was suddenly getting the whole picture of just how badly he was beaten up today.

He had bruises on his torso, cuts and bruises on his arms, and cuts on his face and ear where he didn't have a shirt to protect him from the mirror in her bathroom. She couldn't even see where that son of a bitch had nailed him in the leg with the towel rod.

"Just patch up the cuts, and then we can deal with the rest in the morning…"

She shook her head but set about cleaning him up. She seemed to function better with a task in mind. She cleaned the cuts and bandaged them one by one. The cuts on his arm just got some gauze and tape, her cold fingers ghosting gently over his skin.

He heard her sniff a few times as she worked, and every once in awhile her hand would leave her work and move up to her own face. She wouldn't let him see her cry, but it was hard to miss the tears in her eyes.

She wrapped a long, wide bandage around his torso, to help his bruised and possibly broken ribs. He lifted his arms and while he turned his face away when hers was inevitably brought closer in order to accomplish her task, he still felt her warm, shaky breath against his neck. His weary arms resisted the impulse to wrap around her and assure her that the two of them were okay and she will never have to kill ever again.

The injury on his head required some tweezers to get the last of the mirror and glass out of his wound. She cleaned it as painlessly for him as she could, adding a few strips she called butterfly stitches that helped hold the two sides of the cut together. Cain found himself staring at her but he couldn't help it. His gaze would always wander back to her and what she was doing.

The fact that she was standing inches from him in nothing but his shirt had nothing to do with it either.

When she had cut the pieces of tape for the bandages on his arms, she had placed them on her leg, just above her knee, while she placed the gauze where she wanted it. Cain tried very hard not to notice how her legs were not only on display for him, but they looked completely hairless and smooth too.

Cain fought to not fidget.

When she was finally done, she stepped back, shoulders slumping in exhaustion. Her eyes lingered on his forehead.

"You probably shouldn't sleep right after a head injury…"

He sighed. He wanted nothing more than to fall back into his bed and rest.

Well…almost nothing.

"So now what?" he asked, watching as she took the med kit back to the bathroom.

"I don't know…" she came back into the room, staring at the floor. "We stay up and talk for awhile?"

He followed her with his eyes as she walked passed him and to the far side of the bed, collapsing on it and staring up at the ceiling. He scooted over and lied down as well, hands on either side of him, mimicking her position.

"What do you want to talk about?" he asked after a long pause.

"Not about what just happened…" she answered after an equally long pause.

They lapsed into silence for a minute, contemplating the pattern on the ceiling.

It was beige with paisley shaped swirls.

"Do you think Toto chases cats?" he asked finally.

A moment's pause.

"I dunno," she replied, sounding regretful that she didn't.

Silence reigned over them again.

Cain was glad there weren't any windows in his room.

"Hey Cain?" she asked quietly, her tone somber.

"Yeah?"

"…I killed someone today…" she told him. She sounded numb. Unsure how she felt about it but sure that it did, in fact, happen.

He frowned at the ceiling. He knew telling her that she did the right thing was not what she wanted to hear right now.

"I know, sweetheart…"

One of her fingers brushed against his hand and he caught it with one of his for a moment. Then he linked their hands together, not letting go the rest of the night.

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A/N: I daresay the end is in sight... :(