Ducking swiftly into the bathroom, Gold glances around restlessly for a towel of some sort but comes up empty. Acting on impulse, he quickly sheds his suit jacket and holds the sleeve beneath the frigid water from faucet, before limping back to the small room in which he had locked the blonde.
Hurrying over to the bed, he crouches painfully down at the side where she has fallen and struggles anxiously to hoist her back onto the mattress; the young woman whimpering deliriously.
"Oh, god, what did you do?!"
He mutters fearfully as he pulls her eyelid back with his thumb to inspect a hazy, unfocused green orb. Shaking his head fretfully, he drapes the sodden sleeve of his jacket over her forehead as he positions himself on the threadbare throw.
"Stupid, stupid girl!"
The Sheriff's arms are streaked with blood; the left hanging limply from the silver cuff by which he'd fastened her, her wrist deeply lacerated and clotted a painful red where the cruel metal bites into her flesh.
Her right rests uselessly at her side; the flesh torn and shredded and her thumb bent at an odd angle.
"Oh, Emma..."
Gold grumbles fearfully as he inspects her ruined limb critically and realizes the blonde has broken her own wrist in her struggle to free herself.
"Damn it."
Bloodshed is something for which he is ill-prepared.
He had thought the Sheriff would simply bitch and gripe while laying mercifully prone on the hard bed to which he'd fastened her; perhaps going so far as throwing a petulant hunger strike or shutting herself off altogether. A small part of him is almost proud of the young blonde that she should strive quite so valiantly for her release, but this curious thought is dampened as he is now met with the consequence of her actions.
Removing the wet sleeve from her brow, he uses it to carefully clean the blood from her wrists; cringing at the severity of the cuts she has made to pale flesh. Shaking his head, he reaches over to his side where he had set out some provisions this morning and pops open a can of coke. Feeding a straw into the sugary liquid, he wrestles an arm gently beneath her shoulders and lifts the blonde so that her head lolls into his neck. Shaking her gently, he strives to get her to sip at the coke in an attempt to bring her back to the here and now.
"Come on, dearie, come on, Emma..."
The Sheriff splutters fitfully as she chokes on the fizzy drink and Gold immediately withdraws the straw from parched lips and pulls her up into his arms, speaking her name sternly into her ear.
"No-ooo..."
"It's ok, shh, stop that now, it's ok."
"...Hurts..."
Emma looks up at him in confusion and he slowly realises that she currently has no clue what's happening or who he is. He wonders if she even knows who she is, but decides it doesn't much matter. Nodding sympathetically, her lifts her arm up above her head and wraps his jacket firmly around her wrist to staunch the bleeding. He is aware that this precaution is lame at best, however; hatefully conscious of the way her thumb hangs limply on a ribbon of torn tissue, but unsure what to do about such a thing in a land without magic.
Frowning, he pets her in a way he hopes to be soothing; the blonde finding herself in this situation most definitely not part of his plan. Dark eyes darting about the blood-streaked bedding, he groans inwardly as he watches her begin to break out of her pained stupor into a fearful panic attack.
"What's going on?! No! What?!-"
"-Miss Swan..."
"No! No, n-no no! Please! No! Don't! No cuffs! Please!"
"Sheriff! Calm down! You're okay! There's nothing-"
"-Get me out! Get me out! Get me out! No! NO!"
"Emma!"
Gold yells at her, slapping her smartly across the face as the Sheriff begins to thrash once more in earnest; the cuff that still holds her left wrist to the bed sawing cruelly into broken skin.
"Stop it! Stop! Emma!"
The pawnbroker's eyes widen as he struggles to hold the blonde still; the young women staring up at him fearfully before breaking down into a fit of childlike weeping. Regarding her incredulously, Gold reaches swiftly into his shirt pocket and retrieves the key to her restraints. Sliding it into the bloodstained lock of the cuff that still holds her left wrist to the bed, he eases the crude silver bracelet away from her pale flesh carefully, frowning as fresh blood runs down her arm from exposed lacerations.
"Jesus..."
He is shocked by the Sheriff's behaviour; unsure how and why things have so quickly reached the level that they have. The damage she has done to herself appalls him, and he shakes his head in disbelief as he carefully wraps the other sleeve of his jacket to form a tourniquet just above her wrist.
"Emma?"
Creased brow hovering inches from the blonde's, sour breath hot on her cheeks. She looks up at him blearily, face white and lips dry.
"Don't hurt me..."
"I... I wasn't going to."
He mutters distractedly, pressing sodden fabric firmly to her bleeding wrists. He needs another plan, and fast; a way to keep the blonde subdued in which she won't pose as a danger to herself.
"Jefferson."
He groans irritably, not at all thrilled at the idea of involving the deluded young man, but realizing the Hatter to be his best option.
He observes her critically as sooty lashes flutter closed, moving his fingers hesitantly to her throat and sighing with a meagre sense of relief as her pulse beats lightly but rhythmically beneath his calloused skin.
Reaching once more into his pocket, he retrieves his phone, dialing a number he had planned on never using again, and waiting with a furrowed brow until the melodic whine of the mad man's voice greets him through the static.
"Yes?"
"Jefferson. I need you to do something for me..."