"God! Killian, what the hell?" I said, voice at least an octave higher than normal. I reached forward to grab his hand. It was slashed open and bleeding. "You idiot. Now we have to go to the ER and get you stitched up."
"Alright, Swan," he said, his voice dull, his hand dripping blood. The moment of rage passed, defeat taking its place. I took his keys and opened the door, looking for something in his car to wrap around his hand. I found a t-shirt in the backseat and tied him up. He started to get into the driver's seat.
"Killian, you can't drive. We're both trashed, and you're basically one handed. I'm going to call a cab." I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed the local cab company. While I talked to the dispatcher, I dragged Killian through the alley to the street in front of the bar. Once we reached the street, he slumped against the front of the building. I sighed and joined him.
"Are you ok?" he asked in an almost whisper.
"Yeah, fine, just peachy," I said.
"No, I meant your hand," he answered, pulling my hand up to inspect the bruises and blood.
"Yeah, it's fine. It's bruised, but the blood is Neal's." He smiled at that.
"Bloody bastard," he sighed.
"Goddamn bitch," I answered.
He put his head back against the cool brick of the wall and brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I guess it's a good thing you hadn't set a date for the wedding." He looked over at me, something like pity in his eyes. "I'm sorry, love." He reached up to stroke my cheek.
His gentle touch was too much and my throat caught on a sob. The tears I had avoided for the last hour welled up in my eyes. I put my face in my hands and tried to keep from turning into some puddle on the ground. Killian wrapped his left arm around my shoulder and pulled me close, gently pressing his lips to the top of my head. We stayed like that until the cab showed up to take us to the hospital.
I made it through the ER with only fifteens stitches. We caught another cab back to the Jolly Roger to pick up my car. Emma drove me home, her hand being less damaged than mine. We said little on the short drive from the bar to my apartment. We sat in the car for a few moments, before I spoke.
"Take my car and go home, get some sleep," I told her, taking her bandaged hand and holding it up to my face. "I'll come 'round in the morning to pick it up. I don't have any plans for tomorrow, so it's no trouble."
She sat staring out into the dark parking lot, another tear escaped down her cheek. She looked down at her hand in her lap. "Can I stay with you tonight?" she whispered. "I don't want to be alone, and Mary Margaret will interrogate me the minute she wakes up."
She wanted to hide. I couldn't blame her. I had a feeling David would be calling me later with questions not dissimilar to those Mary Margaret had planned for Emma. "I imagine she and David had quite a rousing conversation musing over us, love." I leaned my head back on the seat, keeping her hand against my chest. "You're more than welcome to hide out here."
She glanced up at me, tears falling from her chin onto her lap. "Thanks, Killian."
We got out of the car and walked up to my apartment. Opening the door, I guided her into the foyer. I left the lights off, the moonlight pouring through the window plenty to guide us to my room. She stood just inside the door of my bedroom, picking at her fingers while I pulled a t-shirt and boxers from my dresser. As I handed them to her, I said, "I'll take the couch, love. Make yourself at home."
When I started to leave, she stopped me with a hand to my shoulder. Without looking up, she whispered, "Stay with me?"
I nodded briefly. "I'll be right back." I left the room, giving her a chance to change. I went to the kitchen and grabbed a couple of water bottles from the fridge. Returning to the bedroom, I found her sitting on the nightstand, clothed in my t-shirt and boxers. "Here, drink," I said, handing her a bottle of water. On autopilot at this point, she opened the bottle and drank, draining it. She sat the empty plastic container on the floor. I pulled the bedding back and pulled her to her feet, pushing her back on the bed. She offered no resistance, behaving like an obedient child. I laid her down and pulled the covers over her limp body.
I walked around to the other side, shedding my shirt and reaching for the buckle on my belt. Kicking off my shoes and my jeans, I crawled into the other side of the bed in only my boxers. As I laid down I could feel the bed shaking beneath me from the strength of her sobs. I scooted closer and wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her into my chest. I nuzzled the back of her neck with my nose, kissing her hair, shushing her with what had to be lame words of comfort. After a while, her sobs fell away to sniffles and hiccups, and she finally fell asleep.