The short, curved hallway was empty, but the sounds of gunfire and fighting were close though. Grace drew her guns and looked over at Deacon. Their eyes met for a moment, and they both nodded. They rounded the bend, and entered the fight. The large main room with its line of windows was in shambles. Chloe had seemly dodged every bullet the Blood Pack had sent at her. Ducking behind one of the large columns, Chloe poked her head around it and saw Deacon. An evil grin lit up her face.

"So the cat has come out to play," she called.

Grace motioned for the Pack to stop firing for the moment.

"Let's see how fuckin' funny you are after I rip you apart," Deacon threw back at her.

"Temper, temper," Chloe said, clicks following her words.

Grace couldn't see the assassin, but she guessed that she'd just reloaded her guns.

"Look who's fucking talking," Deacon muttered.

"I'll be glad when you're dead," Chloe said.

She stepped out from behind the column and opened fire. Grace and Deacon were the only ones mainly out in the open, so they both ducked behind columns on their side of the room. Reinhardt and Chupa both seemed fearless as they returned fire at Chloe. The more sane ones though, waited for some kind, any kind of opening. Grace stepped halfway out from behind the column and started shooting at Chloe. The other woman was actually laughing as she dodged the bullets and kept up the onslaught.

Out of the corner of her eye, Grace saw Deacon start for Chloe, since the assassin's gunfire was aimed at Reinhardt and Chupa. She stepped out more from behind the column, half watching Chloe and half watching Deacon. Chloe suddenly noticed him too, and swung around to aim at him. She was fast. Grace dropped her guns, drew her sword, and raced forward, planning on using the blade to deflect the bullets while she pulled Deacon out of the way.

Grace stepped in front of him, raising her sword, but not fast enough. She ended up taking the bullets meant for him. She felt the metal slam into her stomach, her chest. She felt one tear into her shoulder, going all the way through to hit Deacon in the shoulder too. She cried out as pain erupted like fire through her body. Her sword slipping from her fingers, she fell back against Deacon, knocking him halfway down to the floor. She heard his voice echoing in her ears as he shouted her name. She heard Chloe curse as the assassin saw that her attack had not killed Deacon. Grace couldn't think, as the pain pushed all other thoughts from her mind. But she knew she'd saved Deacon, and so her pain was alright. She felt Deacon drag her behind one of the columns even as the war between Chloe and the Pack continued.

"Grace! Grace, can you hear me?" Deacon said.

She looked up at him, her vision swimming, and struggled to focus. She could see that he was hurt, blood dripping from his shoulder, and some hoe that seemed more important then her own wounds.

"I can hear you," she replied hollowly, and fire lanced through her chest. She winced, not wanting to look at her wounds.

"Grace?" he started, and she was scared to hear the actual panic in his voice.

She suddenly coughed, igniting more pain in her chest, and felt something warm slid over her chin. Numbly, she raised a hand to her face, and saw that it was blood.

"Fuck," Deacon said.

Parts of the column just above them exploded from gunfire, raining chunks of plaster and dust down on them. He tried to shield her from it, but she was sure they both looked like ghosts now anyway. He knelt beside her, waiting for a break in the onslaught from Chloe, when Reinhardt moved closer to them.

"Get her the fuck out of here!" he shouted, renewing his attack on Chloe.

Deacon barely gave a sign that he acknowledged him, and lifted Grace in his arms. Holding her close to him, he dashed across the room to the mini hallway that led to the elevator; a string of bullets followed a few steps behind him. As he stood there waiting for the doors to open, he Gazed down at Grace, who was as light as a feather in his arms. Finally the doors opened and he stepped in. He pushed a button and set Grace down, kneeling beside her.

"Deacon Frost!" Chloe thundered, sounding furious.

He raised his head, seeing the assassin only yards away. Both guns aimed at them. She opened fire, and he pulled Grace over with him to the side. The doors started to close, but bullets still slammed into the opposite wall. He ducked as low as possible, keeping against the wall with Grace. The doors closed, and the elevator began to ascend.

"Deac?" Grace whispered, even that little bit of movement sending nails of pain through her chest.

He gazed down at her as she looked up at him. She was nearly white, and blood had soaked through her cloths from the multiple bullet wounds in her stomach and chest. Her blood was all over him too, soaking into his pants, on his shirt, his hands. She tried to continue, but she didn't have the energy. The edges of her vision were turning black.

"Grace? You have to stay awake. Grace?" Deacon said, seeing that her eyes were starting to slip closed.

'I want to,' she tried to say, but couldn't. She realized that she must be dying. And she also realized that it didn't scare her.

"Grace?" he said again.

He knew she was dying, and not from the wounds, but that she was going to bleed to death. He had to keep her awake, had to save her. He slapped her face lightly, and she stirred a little. He bit into his wrist til it bled freely, and held it to her mouth. She stirred again, but her eyes remained closed. After a moment, she began to suck on the wound. He moved her hair back from her face with his other hand, hoping that his blood would giver her some of her strength back so that she could continue to cling to life.

He didn't know if she could hear him or not, but he whispered, "I can't lose you."

----------------------------------

Grace slipped in and out of consciousness for the next three days, always in pain when she awoke. At times, it seemed she wasn't going to make it, and every one was on edge. They had managed to fight off Chloe that day, and security had been tightened to the max. La Magra hadn't resurfaced, and if it hadn't been for Grace's critical condition, things would have been calm. She should have recovered by now, but the bullets had been silver, so she really should have been dead. But she wasn't. Besides the silver bullets, she'd lost a lot of blood, and without blood, vampires die. The day she'd been shot, in the elevator, when Deacon had given her his blood, had saved her life.

On the third night, she woke with a start from a troubling dream that she couldn't remember the moment her eyes opened. Her vision cleared, and she lay there, gazing up at the ceiling. Her mind was still swimming, but after a short while, she remembered with a jolt what had happened. Instinctively, she moved a hand to her stomach and chest where she'd been shot, and felt instead bandages. She realized that the Tower seemed quiet, and was at once filled with panic. Was everyone ok? Was Deacon ok? She could still feel his thoughts and emotions, and so was a little relieved.

'Deacon?' she said silently, wondering if he could hear her thoughts calling out to him.

He must not have been very far away, because a moment later, the door opened and he walked in. "Grace!" he said, kneeling beside the bed, "How are you?"

He looked about as tired and weary as she still felt.

"I…don't know really," she said quietly, pin pricks of pain running through her chest with every word.

"I've been worried about you," he said, brushing her hair back from her face. She was pale, but not nearly as pale as she had been.

She caught his arm lightly as he lowered it. She gazed at the bite wounds on his wrist. A couple were recent, about within a day, the other couple had almost faded. She looked at him questioningly. He gently pulled his arm from her grip before saying anything.

"It was the only thing that helped," he said.

Now she understood. That's why he looked so tired. "I see," Grace said, not yet trying to sit up.

"That was crazy, what you did," he said after a moment.

"She would've killed you," she responded, "I couldn't let her."

He gazed at her for a moment. "You'd really die for me?" he said quietly.

"Yes," she whispered, gazing into his eyes as she raised a hand to his face, running her fingers through his brown hair, "Yes I would."