Ducking into the bathroom, Gold searches frantically for a towel but comes up empty. Acting on impulse, he sheds his suit jacket and holds one of the sleeves beneath the water from the faucet, before limping back to the small room in which he's tethered the blonde.
Hurrying over to the bed, he crouches down at the side where she has fallen with a pained hiss and struggles to hoist her back onto the mattress.
"What did you do?!"
He demands hoarsely as he pulls back the Sheriff's eyelid with his thumb to check for a reaction. Shaking his head fretfully, he drapes the sodden sleeve of his jacket over her forehead as he sits down shakily on the edge of the bed.
"Stupid, stupid girl!"
He admonishes through clenched teeth. The blonde's arms are streaked with blood; the left hanging limply from the silver cuff attached to the bed, her wrist lacerated and clotted scarlet where the metal bites deep into her flesh.
Her right rests at her side; her skin torn open and her thumb hanging at an odd angle.
"Emma..."
Gold grumbles uneasily as he inspects the damage she's done to herself critically, coming to the unsavoury realisation that the blonde has broken her own hand in a bid to free herself.
"Damn it!"
He shouts at her; bloodshed not something he'd been prepared for.
He'd been well aware that the Sheriff would likely bitch at him something rotten upon finding herself shackled to the bed, perhaps even going so far as to go on a petulant hunger strike. He'd been prepared to deal with her throwing a tantrum or shutting him out altogether. Such a reaction would be understandable, after all. But this...
I should have known better than to underestimate you, dearie... You've been warning me so all along...
He sighs. Removing the wet sleeve from her brow, he uses it to clean the blood from her wrists, cringing at the severity of the gouges she's made to pale flesh. Shaking his head, he reaches toward the nightstand where he'd set out some provisions this morning and pops open a can of coke. Feeding a straw into the sugary liquid, he wrestles an arm beneath the blonde's shoulders and lifts her up so that her head rests against his neck. Shaking her gently, he strives to get her to sip at the coke in an attempt to bring her around.
"Come on, Emma... That's it..."
He urges, angling the straw a little more. Finally, the Sheriff splutters fitfully as she chokes on the fizzy drink and Gold immediately lowers the can and pulls her close, speaking her name sternly into her ear.
"Emma."
"No-ooo."
The blonde stirs in his grip, struggling to free herself.
"It's okay! Stop that now. It's okay."
He assures her uneasily; unsure whether he's telling her the truth. Emma pulls back and blinks at him in confusion, and he realises that she seems to have no clue what's happening or who he is. He wonders if she currently even knows who she is, but decides it doesn't much matter. Nodding sympathetically, he lifts her arm up over her head and wraps his jacket tightly around her wrist to staunch the bleeding. He's aware that this solution is lame at best, however; conscious of the way her thumb hangs from a ribbon of torn tissue, but unsure what to do about it in a land without magic.
Frowning, he pets her in a way he hopes is soothing; the blonde finding herself in this situation definitely not part of his plan. Considering the blood-streaked bedding morosely, he groans as the Sheriff begins to break out of her pained stupor and shrieks in panic.
"What's going on?! What the fuck is going on!?"
"-Miss Swan-"
"-No! No, n-no no! Please! No cuffs! Please!"
"Sheriff! Calm down! You're okay. There's nothing-"
"-Get me out! Get me out now! Now! Get me-"
"-Emma!"
Gold shouts, slapping the blonde smartly across the face as the Sheriff begins to thrash in earnest; the cuff attached to her left wrist sawing through broken skin.
"Stop it! You'll make it worse! Emma!"
The pawnbroker's eyes widen as he struggles to hold the blonde still; the young woman staring up at him fearfully before breaking down into a fit of hysterical weeping. Studying 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 holds her left wrist to the bed, he eases the silver bracelet open carefully, grimacing as fresh blood runs down her arm and patters onto the bedsheets.
"What the hell have you done...?"
He repeats unsteadily; shocked by the Sheriff's behaviour, and unsure how and why things have so quickly reached the level that they have. The damage that she's done to herself appals him, and he shakes his head in disbelief as he carefully wraps the second sleeve of his jacket around her arm to form a tourniquet just above her wrist.
"... Emma?"
He leans over her; creased brow hovering an inch from the blonde's own, his sour breath hot on her cheeks. She looks up at him fearfully, her face paper-white and her lips dry.
"Don't hurt me."
She requests in a curiously clipped tone.
"I wasn't going to."
Gold frowns, pressing sodden fabric firmly to her bleeding wrists. He needs a plan, and fast; a way to keep the blonde subdued in which she won't pose a danger to herself.
"Jefferson."
He mutters irritably; not at all thrilled at the idea of involving the deluded young man, but imagining the Hatter might be his best option at this point.
Looking back down at Emma, he observes her critically as her lashes fall closed, moving his fingers hesitantly to her throat and sighing with a meagre sense of relief as her pulse beats rhythmically beneath his touch.
Reaching into his pocket, he retrieves his phone; dialling a number he'd sworn never to use again and waiting with a furrowed brow until the melodic whine of the madman's voice greets him through the static.
"Yes?"
"Jefferson. I need you to do something for me."