Hello! Here's part 4, sorry for the delay, i've been trying to survive school ! Thank you to everyone commenting on the story and who favourited and liked it, means a lot to me ! Enjoy ;)

Protection - Part 4

Emma sat on the edge of her bed, her hands folded across her lap, her face full of tears. Her father had told her to go inside and get some rest, and for the last fifteen minutes she had tried, but her eyes would not close. After Seth had walked her to her room and went to help out with the other guys, Emma's head had been filled with flashes of what she had just witnessed. Pete over her, holding her wrists, his face twisted in a terrifying smirk. Roman, towering above Pete, his knuckles bloody, his eyes vacant, like he wasn't even himself.

Her incapacity to relax also lay in the fact that she had no idea what was going on outside of her bedroom walls. She didn't even know if Pete was still alive. When he lay there, motionless, his face unrecognizable, it was impossible to tell in which state he was in. Dead or alive, what were they doing with him? If he was dead, would they get rid of the body? If he wasn't, would they finish the job? What did that mean for her? For Roman?

The overwhelming amount of questions running through her head had her ears buzzing, no matter how tired she was. She could not sleep for the life of her, too busy worrying.

Most of all she worried for Roman. Where had he gone? Was he with the others? Did he leave? He had seemed so broken when he walked away, so defeated and disappointed with himself. Emma couldn't imagine what might have been going through his head, and her heart swelled at the thought of him thinking that she was now afraid of him. In truth, she had been, for a brief moment, but only because he hadn't been himself.

She could never be afraid of the Roman she knew he was, the one who rescued her, the one who cared for her.

Tired of waiting for answers she knew would never come, Emma decided to take matters into her own hands and check things out for herself. As soon as she made it out of her room, however, did her legs seem to instinctively take her where she knew she wanted to go all along: to see Roman. She made her way to the guard's quarters without really realizing it, and as she stepped closer to his room, her heart pounded harder through her chest.

She had no idea what state he would be in, or if he was even there in the first place, but she had to try. She knew, deep down, that she would never be able to rest without knowing how he was.

As soon as she reached his door, she could hear muffled sounds behind the wooden frame, which made it clear that there was in fact someone in there. Emma felt relieved, her worries appeased only so slightly knowing that Roman wasn't out somewhere in trouble, but instead safely barricaded in his room, similarly to what she would do on countless occasions.

Her knocks were soft on the door and she waited a solid minute, getting no response. Whatever raucous Roman was making on his side rendered him unable to hear her, and Emma wondered if this was a sign telling her to turn around and walk away. Ignoring her hesitation, she knocked once more, waiting for a few seconds before calling his name in a breaking voice.

"R-Roman?"

All noise suddenly ceased on the other side of the door, yet it still remained closed, Roman making no attempt to answer. Going against the little voice inside of her telling her to leave it alone, Emma ever so lightly opened the door, stepping one foot through the frame. She felt weirdly drawn with need to see him, to know that he was there and he was okay.

Standing in the middle of the dimly lit room, Roman had his eyes glued to her the second she came in. A small gasp escaped her lips at the sight of him, his dark pupils sending shivers across her skin. She took in the sight of his room, his sheets on the floor, his bedside table fallen on its flank, various objects carelessly thrown all around. His room had taken most of the hit of his anger, Emma realized.

His stare was similar to the one he held earlier, when he was entranced in his rage, rather than his usual softness. Neither of them said anything for a little while, and eventually, just as suddenly as she'd walked in, Emma was gone. Roman heard her footsteps die down at the end of the hall, and he let himself fall on the bed. Bringing his hands to his face, his elbows resting on his knees, he could barely hold back the emotionally charged sigh that escaped his lips, even more devastated than he had been.

Emma had come to check on him, and she'd ran. If he didn't feel like a monster before, he certainly did now. The last thing he wanted was to be considered a threat, when all he'd wanted was to help. He should have known better, he thought, than to let every come out all at once. He'd known the second the first punched had connected to Pete's face that he wouldn't be able to stop. He should have known better than to start.

But how could he not? The guy had put his hands all over Emma, on his watch. He was supposed to protect her, and he'd failed her completely. No wonder she couldn't bare to stand in the same room as him, he was a pitiful excuse for a guard-

"Hey."

She was back. Roman's head shot up as he watched Emma make her way inside of his room again, holding was seemed to be a first aid kit. His eyes went wide with surprise as she leaned over, kneeling in front of him and unzipping the bag she was carrying silently. Roman felt at a loss and she took out bandages and disinfecting gauze, barely able to comprehend what was happening.

Not only was Emma there, but she was helping him. Caring for him. Roman felt suddenly very overwhelmed, clearing his throat as to snap himself out of it.

"You don't have to do that," his voice broke off, his shaky breath connecting with her forehead.

"Of course I do," she blatantly responded, like it was obvious. "You… It's the least I can do."

Roman said nothing back, watching her as her slim fingers grazed his hands, considering the damage. The contact of her soft skin with his rugged one has his breath quicken, feeling incredibly vulnerable. She was three times smaller than he was, as emotionally confused as he was, yet he felt completely safe under he calming touch. Before he could really register what had happened, his hands were all patched up, tight bandages encircling his knuckles. He hadn't even twitched when she'd disinfected his wounds, or when she'd dabbed the dried blood away.

He was too busy staring at her focused eyes as she worked, thankful for the attention but unable to put it into words.

"You really didn't have to do that," he repeated as she stood, putting the leftover bandages away and zipping the bag back up. "I could've-"

"Roman," she cut him off, holding a hand up to silence him. "Please, just let me help you," she insisted, her voice barely above a whisper. "You… You saved me tonight. If you hadn't been there, I-I don't know what would have happened."

Emma stopped, her throat closing on her words. She knew if she said one thing more, she would fall into a sobbing mess. As though he noticed, Roman stood, taking a step forward in her direction.

"Thank you."

Emma let out a humourless laugh, her lips quivering as she shook her head. How the hell had she made him thank her after he'd been the one to come to her defense?

"Don't thank me, please. You were right. I should've listened to you," she admitted, whipping a few stray tears away.

Roman let out a shaky breath, passing a hand in front of his face. "I didn't want to be right."

Emma gave him a sad smile, relieved that he wasn't gloating. Somehow, part of her expected him to sing I told you so, especially after being so clear that she shouldn't come crying to him when it all went to hell. She'd taken the decision to face whatever he would say in order to acknowledge that he was right, and she felt foolish for fearing he would be rude about it. Roman wasn't like that.

"I'm sorry."

Her voice cracked as she said it, swallowing back tears as she apologized. Her actions had been careless, and she felt solely responsible for everything that had gone down. She felt responsible for her family having to deal with Pete, about the security guards having to come to her rescue, about Roman snapping completely and nearly killing someone over her. Had she listened to him, this would have never happened, and Roman wouldn't be thanking her for merely patching him up.

"I'm so sorry, Roman," she cried again, the weight of her actions pressing down on her shoulders. She was shamelessly sobbing by now, barely able to hold Roman's gaze.

"You didn't do anything wrong," he told her, his eyes looking for hers sternly.

"Yes, I did, this is all my fault," she insisted, feeling more and more ashamed as she spoke.

"Emma, look at me," he ordered her, and when she didn't listen her grabbed her face and pulled it up so their eyes could meet. She sniffed a few times, her eyes widening at the sight of his face, so close to hers. "Listen to me. This isn't your fault. It's his fault. It's my fault. Not yours."

"But I-"

"No. I should've… I should've made you leave before I- before it happened. You shouldn't have had to see that, I'm sorry," he babbled, his hands still firmly holding her face towards his. "I should've gotten there sooner; I should've been there the whole time-"

"Stop, stop, stop," Emma shushed him, softly letting her own hands rest above his. "You were there, that's all that matters. And I'm really, really thankful that you were."

Silence filled the air as they finally stopped apologizing to each other, letting their eyes speak for them as they connected through a long stare. They were so very close to each other, Roman's breath prickling her eyelashes, Emma's tiny framed nearly molded onto his.

As fate would have it, however, just as Roman's face seem to lean lower towards hers, heavy steps were heard through the halls. They barely had time to step away from each other before Ambrose appeared in the doorway, merely surprised at seeing them so close to each other in the darkness.

"Somehow I had a feelin' I'd find you here," he mused, speaking to Emma. The young girl opened her mouth to protest, her cheeks flushed at the implication, even more so knowing it might ring true. "Your father's looking for you. He was kind'a freaked out when he realized you weren't in your room."

"Oh, right," Emma replied, bolting towards Ambrose as though she'd be shocked. "I just-" she went to explain, passing by Dean on her way out.

"You don't gott'a explain yourself t'me," Ambrose cut in, holding his hands up. "Just the messenger."

Emma nodded, cutting the conversation short as she realized he was right. She didn't really have to explain herself to anyone at this point, expect for her father. Dean motioned for the hallway, silently urging her forward, but Emma hesitated, her stare going from him to Roman's frame. He stood exactly where she'd left him, seeming just as taken aback as she was.

In a flash she was back inside the room, her steps full of determination as she reached him and pulled him into a crushing hug. Her small arms circled his waist without giving him time to react, her head resting on his chest as she took a deep breath, taking in his scent, the moment, the meaning. Roman's eyes threatened to bulge out of their sockets as he stared down at her, ignoring Ambrose's look of surprise, too focused on his own.

It only took him a few seconds before his arms pulled her closer, his cheek resting by her temple as he embraced the feeling of her body against his. He'd wondered for a while now what it felt like, and he was not disappointed. He felt important and needed, big and powerful, yet safe.

He reluctantly let her go once she pulled away, her cheeks redder than he'd ever seen them. She cleared her throat, her eyes fixated on his chest instead of his face, and passed a nervous hand on her warm face.

"Thank you," she repeated, looking into his eyes only long enough to make sure he'd heard her, before she was spinning on her heel and walking away.

Both men watched her leave with similar looks of confusion, Roman trying his best not to betray the overwhelming emotions crawling through his chest. They shared a nod before Ambrose followed the young woman, leaving Roman alone once more, with the lingering feeling of Emma's warmth on his skin.

'Did you hear about Pete?'

'He's in the hospital, Em!'

'They don't know when he'll wake up.'

The next morning, Emma had a good amount of text messages chiming on her phone, most of which from her good friend Alexa. It had been no secret to her that Emma and Pete were to hang out the night before, so it made sense that she'd be the first one who was asked about it. She had forced herself to answer back that Pete had left her house perfectly fine, and she had no idea what happened after that.

Emma didn't have to ask more than once for her father to close the television that morning as news of a young boy found on the side of the road, beaten half to death, were circulating on every media platform. As the announcer spoke gravely of it on the morning news, Emma felt bile rise through her throat and decided she could go without breakfast.

Pete was still alive, yes, but in a poor state. She felt relieved at the news, but worried at the implications. Her father had been quick to reassure her, however, as soon as she spoke those concerns.

"He won't talk," he announced in between two sips of coffee, without adding anything more. Emma had concluded that she didn't wish to ask what that meant, knowing full well she wouldn't enjoy the answer. Did they have someone on watch to get to him the second he got up? Would they threaten him into silence?

Emma decided to simply figure that Pete wouldn't talk because it meant admitting what he'd done. That was, sadly, the better alternative.

Two days passed in a flash, the texts dying down and the news getting old. Emma hadn't left the house once, partly because she didn't want to but also knowing her father wouldn't let her. Roman had been given a few days off, and she spent of her time wondering how he was.

She hoped his wounds were healing well, and that he was getting the rest he needed, but most of all she wondered if he thought about their almost-kiss.

It had almost happened, in his room, right before they were interrupted, and not a moment passed without Emma wondering what would have happened had Ambrose not walked in.

Would they have stopped on their own? Would they have met in the middle, lips connecting, feelings spilling out?

Most of all, she worried she was making it all up in her head. Maybe she'd imagined Roman leaning in, maybe he did lean in but wanted to kiss her forehead, in a brotherly way? Maybe he was going to kiss her, but was glad they didn't.

She couldn't possibly ask him, yet as she longed for his return, she realized part of her was curious to see how it would be between them when he did. Then she would have her answer, she thought. She would know.

Seth had been a great support through those few days, and Dean's presence was always a calming occurrence, and she felt thankful that Roman wasn't the only guard she felt comfortable with. After her incident, her encounters with the others were all the more difficult. If she felt queasy before, she certainly felt even worse now, especially the ones she knew were involved in whatever had occurred in the aftermath of her attack, like Gallows and Anderson. Their presence sent unpleasant shivers through her limbs, and she tried her best to get out of their way.

Emma was fully aware that she was constantly surrounded by big, imposing men who were hired to use said threatening statures to their advantage, yet now more than ever did she feel quite the opposite: small, frail, lacking any concept of basic self-defence.

That was made particularly clear a week after the incident as she was forced to take Gallows with her to a coffee shop in order to meet Alexa and chat. They hadn't spoken that much since the whole Pete incident, Emma being evasive and distant, Alexa being too curious and overbearing. She somehow got the idea that Pete and her were dating, and that she should be dealing with this a lot differently than she was, so Emma had found it necessary to stop those allegations altogether.

Gallows parked the car a block away, not having found parking close by, and followed Emma closely as they walked towards the coffee shop. He stood merely a few feet behind her, yet it was enough to make her feel caged in.

It all happened in less than second, yet as she thought back to it, it was painfully slow. A car, flying down the road as Emma neared the intersection. Gallows, grabbing onto her arm forcefully, pulling her backwards into him to keep her from getting squished by the speeding vehicle. Gallows' hand squeezing her forearm, Emma's heartrate quickening, the panic setting in as she thought back to having her wrist crushed in someone else's grip.

"Get off! Don't touch me, get your hands off me, I mean it!" her voice quivered as she pushed him away, Gallows letting her go instantly. He seemed taken aback by her outburst, holding his hands up in surrender to signal he wasn't trying to get inside her space.

Emma breathed heavily as she looked around, waving passing bystanders off to let them know she was fine. She didn't realize how loud she'd been until she saw the look of worry on everyone else's face, their stares going between her and the large man who just a second ago had his hand around her arm.

"I didn't mean to startle you, ma'am," Gallows insisted, taking a step away from her. "Just tryin' to help."

"I know- I know. I'm sorry, I just…" Emma's voice got lost as she closed her eyes momentarily, feeling foolish at her reaction. Gallows was, in fact, simply trying to keep her from getting hit by a car as she carelessly crossed a busy road. "Thanks."

Gallows nodded, staying where he was as he waited for her to start walking again. For the rest of day until they got back to the villa, he stayed a few feet away from her, making sure he wasn't crowding her. Emma was thankful for it, if not slightly confused at her own reaction.

The incident had affected her more than she cared to admit, and as she flinched every time someone got too close, she realized it needed fixing.

"Ambrose, can I ask you something?"

Dean let out a long hiss as he descended the heavy weight he had been lifting, taking a few breaths before he turned to her.

"Ya often sneak up on people like that, boss lady?" he questioned, resting his hands on his hips dramatically as he puffed out some air.

"Sometimes," Emma sang, a small smile curving on her lips. She took a few steps inside their home gym, left available for the guards if ever it wasn't occupied by her father or Maryse. Emma was basically the only person in the house to not particularly care for a workout. "Did I startle you?" she teased, leaning against a large machine.

"Course not," Dean scoffed, taking a second to dab some sweat of his forehead with his t-shirt. The action put his abdomen on full display, and Emma looked away uncomfortably. "You know I'm not on duty right now, though, right?"

Emma rolled her eyes, feeling confident to look back at him now that he was done showing off his body. "Alright, then, I'll ask someone else," she mused, kicking herself off the machine to make her way towards the door ever so slowly.

"I'm kidding!" Dean laughed, getting her to stop on her tracks and turn back. "What can I do ya for, boss lady?" Emma's smile grew wider, amused at how easy to had been to get him to listen.

"For one, you can stop calling me that," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Aw, come on, it's a good name; boss lady."

"Ambrose-" she sighed, an amused smirk still playing on her lips.

"Dean," he corrected, pointing a finger at her.

"I'll call you 'Dean' if you call me 'Emma'," she insisted, and Dean faked a look of shock as he brought a hand to his chest. Emma chuckled, raising an eyebrow in response, and the man finally nodded.

"That's fair," he agreed. "So, what did you want from me, boss- Emma." The young girl gave him a pointed look and Dean's grin grew wider.

"It's kind of embarrassing, so please don't make fun of me," she started, her voice small. "I need help and I don't know who to ask."

Dean's face grew serious at her tone, listening intently, knowing it was obviously something important to her. "Don't worry, I ain't a jerk," he assured her, nodding to encourage her to continue.

"Right, well, still… I need to learn how to defend myself," she announced finally, looking down at the floor. "I'm freaked out, a little, because… well, you know why." Dean grunted in response, and Emma could sense the irritation oozing off him. "And I thought maybe you could help me out."

"Me?" he breathed, surprise evident in his tone and on his face.

"You or Rollins or… you know, one of you guys," Emma shrugged, meeting his eyes. Dean's lips twisted into a smile as he nodded, and she couldn't tell if it was maybe her demand was completely ridiculous or if he felt somehow happy that she'd asked him. Either way, the young girl danced from one feet to the other, impatiently waiting for his response.

"I think that's a good idea," he finally agreed, and Emma let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"Really?" Emma squealed, her excitement taking over as she smiled, and Dean's loud chuckle only emphasized her relief.

"I mean, yeah, of course we can do that," he insisted, shrugging. "But uh, maybe you should ask your Dad first," he proposed, and Emma's face fell.

"Oh."

"Just to make sure it's okay!" he interjected. "Just so, you know, he doesn't kill us or anything."

Emma reluctantly agreed, knowing full well that it was the right thing to do considering the circumstances. She had Dean promise he would deliver his end of the agreement if she did hers, and he was more than happy to comply.

Feeling lighter, Emma made her way towards her father's office, an uncharacteristic bounce in her step.

Once her father agreed, which only took about 45 minutes and a few tears, Emma was ecstatic to deliver the good news to Ambrose, and though he seemed surprised, he agreed that they could start her training as early as the next day.

Dressed in what she assumed were appropriate clothes for the occasion – a workout bra covered by a loose shirt and some sports leggings – she made her way to the gym that morning feeling ready to tackle anything. She was more than determined to get the fear kicked out of her, even if it meant also getting hit in the face by a quirky ex-con.

She was a few minutes early, so she decided to stretch out a little before Ambrose arrived. Placing her legs a few inches apart to stand approximately at shoulder-width, Emma leaned forward, trying to place her palms flat on the floor and stretch out her thighs and back, feeling her muscles give into her position. She let out a deep breath, letting her head fall in between her legs, her stare landing right the entrance of the gym, where someone stood.

The man cleared his throat, and Emma's body jerked up, turning herself around once her head was back above her shoulders. The quick movement had her feeling dizzy, her blood rushing down her body as she'd obviously stood too fast, breathing heavily already.

"Roman," she breathed, her eyes having a hard time focusing on his frame.

"Hey," he spoke, waving at her awkwardly, a small blush creeping on his face. Emma held back a whimper as she realized her first encounter with him in a week was a full view of her ass, followed by an uncomfortable stare-down as she once again forgot how to speak words.

"What- who- you're back," she rambled, letting her hand rest on a nearby machine casually, trying to not hide the fact that she was holding herself up to not fall over until the blood rushed back to her head.

"Yeah, I figured it was time," he nodded, taking a few steps in her direction. "And Ambrose said you needed some help with training?" he went on, confusion evident on his face.

"Oh, did he?" Emma laughed humourlessly, making a silent promise to herself to have a talk with Dean as soon as she could. "Well, yes, I want to learn how to defend myself," she explained, her eyes slowly focusing on his handsome features. "I want to be able to rely on me, sometimes."

"I get that," Roman nodded, staring intensely at her. Emma's breath caught in her throat as he approached her once more, standing only a few feet away. He wore a tight t-shirt with loose shorts, evidently already dressed for the occasion, and she suddenly realized he really wasn't only there for chitchat. He was there to train her.

Him.

"So, are we doing this?" he inquired, his low voice tinted with amusement at her flushed face, and Emma gulped.

"Err, you mean – you're training me?" her voice quivered, and Roman nodded as he smirked.

"Looks like it," he shrugged, extending a hand in her direction. Emma hesitated before she placed her trembling hand in his, and Roman squeezed it reassuringly.

"Don't worry, you'll kick my ass."

There it is ! Leave a review please ;)