Chapter Eleven

"Say what you want just don't say that you're leaving."

Two Hours Later

Tom washed the blood from his hand. The coppery liquid had dried and hardened under his fingernails. The sink in his bathroom was red. The bar of soap, stained. He scrubbed furiously in the sink before moving to the shower. He tossed his clothes and sling into the trash and stepped into the hot spray. Hotter. It needed to be hotter. He needed to burn away what he was feeling. He scrubbed his hand, and arms clean, the hot water stinging his fingers. He washed his hair. The soap running down his blood stained chest, collecting into pink suds in the tub.

When he was finished he collapsed into bed. His mind was so exhausted, and his body was in so much pain that he quickly passed out. A dreamless sleep overtook him and he did not awake until the late morning sun was shining through his window.

He let out a low groan of pain as he rolled out of bed. He looked at his watch. Past ten in the morning. Then again...he didn't get to sleep until after two. He got dressed, and glanced at his bloodstained sling in the trash bin. He'd have to make due without it. Maybe the hospital could spot him a new one. He wanted to see Emma. He was afraid he might not be able to look her in the eye, but still..he wanted to make sure she was well.

The hospital was busy. Nurses and doctors coming and going. Nobody noticed him as he slipped to Emma's bedside. She was awake, staring at the ceiling.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as he stood over her bed.

She managed a weak smile that let him know she wasn't feeling well at all.

"It hurts, but I'll live," she whispered.

"Well, I'm glad of that," he pulled up a chair next to her bed. "I wanted to let you know that we located Ms. Webb,"

Her eyes widened, "Really? And? I mean is she-"

"She's dead."

Emma's hand was trembling as he reached for it. Their kiss in the kitchen felt like years ago now. Whatever was getting started between he and Emma felt strained now, or perhaps it was only him. Last night, this morning had each taken their toll. He felt incredibly vulnerable.

Weak.

"So, how long 'till you're out of here?" he asked casually.

"I'm not sure," she said on a ragged breath.

They sat in silence for a while. Emma rubbed her thumb over Tom's hand.

"I just want you to know...I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry, Emma,"

She weakly squeezed his hand, "It wasn't your fault!"

"I should have been more aware,"

He didn't know what else to say.

"Nevermind that, Where is your sling?" she asked.

"I, uh, lost it during the search last night. Actually I need to see about getting a new one. If you'll excuse me," he stood quickly and walked towards the doors.

Through the haze of pain, and pain medication Emma could tell Tom wasn't himself. The eyes she once thought of as icy were now dim and dull. She missed his presence the moment he was gone.

Tom slipped into his office without anyone seeing. The officers under his command were still very much exhausted from their pursuits last night. He'd been avoiding this moment, but he couldn't put it off any longer. Time to call Scotland Yard and tell his superiors the news.

An hour later he hung up the phone. A relief settled onto his shoulders. That part was over, now on to the rest of what he had to do. He went back to the B&B. Some of his officers were still there. He acknowledged them and made his way upstairs. How many times had he climbed these steps? Too many to count. Day after day and night after night. He'd grown comfortable with Emma, and she had with him as well.

He was blindsided by his feelings for her. He was blindsided by a lot of things. His heart was breaking. He knew this feeling too well. This is what he had tried to avoid for years. He was in love with Emma. For all he knew it could have been happening all along, and he only just realized. Mortal danger tends to reveal one's true feelings.

He heard a knock on his door frame and looked up to see Goodfellow.

"How are you, sir?"

"Perfectly well, Sergeant."

"I brought you a new sling like you asked," Goodfellow handed over the fresh white linen.

"Thank you," Tom said as he wrapped it around his shoulder and under his arm.

Goodfellow smiled as a response and turned to go.

Tom watched him wistfully as he looked around his room.

He was utterly lost.