Casey watched on bouncing feet as Sam punched a code into the bunker door, opening it up and leading them out. Even though they had gotten all clear, he had instructed her to stay behind him as he led the way, his gun at the ready.

She listened, just like she promised Derek she would. His gun was still in her hands as she followed Sam out and up into Derek's office.

If anything happens to Sam, you shoot anything that moves.

That's what he said. That's what she'd do. But hopefully, she didn't have a reason to.

She heard a commotion outside of his office door when they made it back up and inside, but none of it sounded particularly bad. Granted she didn't really have a way of telling the difference.

Carefully Sam unlocked the door, peeking only his head into the hallway. He looked down both sides, keeping her safely tucked behind him.

"Shit," he cursed, straightening and closing the door behind him.

Well, that didn't sound good.

Sam sighed running a hand through his dirty blonde locks. Poor guy was going to start graying soon if he kept it up.

"Ok, so here's the thing," he started, chewing on his lip as if he was still calculating the logistics in his mind. "We have the all clear, but the estate will be full of…. casualties," he finally explained, wincing. "It's a little gory out there right now. And I know you can handle it, but Derek-"

"I know," Casey sighed, feeling resigned. Derek would blow a gasket if he knew Sam let her walk through the aftermath of whatever was out there. "I'm stuck here, aren't I?" she asked, frowning with disappointment.

"Yeah," he sighed. "I should…" Sam trailed off, looking at the door like it was made of glass. It was clear he wanted to go out there, but his promise, his loyalty to her kept him in that room. It was a waste, Sam sitting in there babysitting her. He could be doing so much more if he was out there.

She felt so incredibly useless. Next time, if there was a next time, she would be stronger. She would demand Derek and the team train her. She was not a damsel in distress. She was strong, she could fight, at least long enough to keep herself alive anyway. She wanted to learn how to use weapons; the gun in her hand. She wanted to be prepared. She had slipped up and gotten too comfortable with the cushy life at the estate. But that would change, she decided.

"Sam," she started, mustering up as much bravado as she could. "You're his second. And right now, we don't know if he's alive or not. So you need to go out there. You need to go handle it," she declared.

Saying those words, speaking them into existence, was beyond painful, but she knew the only way Sam would walk out of that room was if he thought she was ok. So she had to be ok. At least for a few more minutes.

Sam shook his head ready to argue. "I know, but-"

"Sam," she tried again, channeling Derek's demeanor. "Go find him. Those are your orders. I will stay here. I will use his gun if I have to. I will wait till you come back," she promised, making it up as she went.

Maybe she was dreaming. Maybe she had fallen asleep while reading one of her books and it was all just a dream. She could manage a dream. She could be the heroine of the story.

Sam stared at her, pride filling his eyes. "If he-"

Casey cut him off quickly, not letting him get an excuse in, her false confidence fading quickly. "If he has a problem with it, he'll take it up with me. But you need to find him first, ok?"

"Ok," Sam finally agreed, nodding. "I'll be back," he promised, slipping past the door and into whatever madness lay outside.

Casey locked the door behind him, her heart pounding in her chest. Had she done that? Had she given Sam orders? And had he actually listened?

She paced the office for a while, trying to do something with the nervous energy running through her body. It smelled like Derek. Like spic and mahogany with a hint of faded leather. It wrapped around her like a balm.

And the bookshelf, full of old books and knick-knacks, it calmed her a bit.

But the couch, that green velvet couch called to her. She had fallen asleep many nights there, waiting for Derek to finish his day.

With a heavy sigh, she gave in, taking a seat. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, keeping her blanket tucked around her tight. She leaned her head against her arms, looking past his desk, through the big beautiful windows, decorated with floor-to-ceiling curtains. It was dark out so she couldn't see much past the glass, but the world looked calm out there. Not a single figure loomed in the background. A crescent moon glittered in the dark sky above like a good omen.

It was ok. Everything would be ok, she told herself. And maybe she chanted the mantra long enough to believe it because the next thing she knew, the door was unlocking and opening.

She looked over, expecting to see Sam, but had never been so happy to be wrong

Derek stepped inside, closing the door behind him quietly.

He didn't say a word. He didn't have to.

He looked exhausted, but that wasn't a surprise. His hair was a mess. He had an open cut across his eyebrow and a smear of blood across his cheek. His left eye had already started bruising. He had what may have been a knife wound across his throat, but it didn't look too bad thankfully.

His suit was a mess, the jacket he had worn during dinner was gone. His white shirt had blood stains across the wrinkled, tattered material. It was as if he had ripped the bottom half off; maybe as a tourniquet to stop someone's bleeding? How it still hung on to his body she didn't know.

But he was standing, and he was there, in one piece.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

"Hey, beautiful, " he drawled. His voice was gravelly like he was in pain but tamping it down. His mouth tipped up into the closest thing to a smirk he could muster. But Casey saw through it all.

And instead of responding, instead of getting up and jumping into his arms, a sob escaped her chest like a firework. Her hands came up to cover her mouth as if to hold it in, but it was no use. Everything started to come up, finally. And he was the catalyst, the key to her unraveling. But wasn't that always the case? Maybe that's why she tried to keep him at arm's length…

But the tears weren't due to sadness or fear. No. She cried out of the pure relief flooding her system.

"Hey, no. Don't do that," he cooed gently, crossing the room to get to her. Even through her tears, she saw the limp in his stride and the way he favored one side. He was hurt. Of course, he was hurt and yet he was comforting her.

"You're ok," he murmured, dropping into the spot on the couch next to her. A grunt escaped his chest, but it didn't stop him from gently pulling her into his arms. "You're ok," he repeated, dipping down to press a kiss to her forehead.

He thought she was worried about herself. No. That wasn't it at all.

His closeness calmed her, her sobs subsiding as she looked up at him. He had closed his eyes, but the pain written across his tense features was clear as day. She reached up, fingertips grazing over his skin, careful not to touch the cuts or bruises. She wanted to press her lips to every part of him, to siphon the pain out of him with her touch.

She learned from last time, restraining herself, and being gentle with his battered body, even though her body yearned to climb onto his lap. To press herself against his skin, to feel his heartbeat against her, to feel every bit of evidence that proved he was alive.

"Are you ok ?" she asked softly, trying to keep the edge out of her voice. Because really that was all she cared about.

"I'm fine," he lied, golden eyes blinking down at her.

"Derek-"

"You gave Sam orders," he interrupted her, the corner of his mouth tipping up, almost like he was impressed.

"You can't be mad at him," she countered quickly. She didn't care how hurt he was, that was one fight she was not letting him win.

"I'm not," he promised, tucking a few pieces of hair behind her ear.

"Was it…" she stopped herself from asking the question, closing her eyes to ground herself. "Did you…" she trailed off again, unsure of how to ask the question. "Is it over?" she finally decided on.

Derek had been her priority. But knowing he was alive allowed her mind to wander to other possibilities…

"It's over princess," he answered softly, his eyes flicking down to her lips.

Between his words and his eyes, she melted in relief.

She wasn't sure who moved first, but they were kissing again. Soft lips pressing promises into one another. It was different from their last kiss. This one was soft, and tender. It felt like letting go. Her fingers slipped into his hair, tugging gently, mindful that he was undoubtedly in pain, but wanting him to feel her instead. Her tongue slid against this, not caring about a single thing in the world because he was there and he was safe.

She wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, but at some point, she pulled away long enough to get a good look at him. "Tell me," she finally asked, breathless, because as good as that was, she had to know what happened out there.

Derek shook his head, frowning. He cupped her face with a blood stained hand, but she didn't care.

"I'm not gonna tell you what I did. You don't need to picture it. You don't need to think about it. Just know that he will never touch you, or anyone else, again. I'm pretty sure our team is mostly intact. A couple of really bad injuries though. I think a few of my guys are in surgery right now. But from my count, we're all still here. I need to get to the med bay later to make sure."

"You need to get patched up too," Casey whispered, her eyes cataloging his injuries like she was noting them all down for his doctor. Nothing looked life-threatening, but she knew he'd need to get some of those cuts cleaned and bandaged at the very least. And those were the obvious injuries she could see. There was no telling what bruises and broken bones lay under his clothes.

Derek shrugged, seeming completely unbothered. "You've seen my scars. I've had worse," he countered as if his past made up the present ones.

Casey pulled away from him, finally letting her safety security blanket go. She made her way to his bar cart and poured him a finger's worth of whiskey. It probably wasn't the best idea, but she knew he needed it after whatever he had done out there.

"Drink," she instructed.

Derek smiled up at her, accepting the glass. He studied her before making any movements. It was like he was inspecting her for injuries. Pleased with his review, he shot back the whiskey without breaking eye contact.

"Thank you," he murmured.

Casey sucked in a breath because him… bloody and hurt, sprawled out on the couch, looking at her through hooded eyes should not have made her feel anything. But it did. She'd have to unpack that in therapy.

She picked up his gun, the one she had left on the coffee table in front of them, handing it back to him. "You might want this back."

Derek chuckled softly, seeing her distraction for what it was. He made a show of lifting his hips off the couch and slipping his gun back into his waistband. "Have I told you how good you looked tonight?" he offered, his voice dropping a little.

"Once or twice," she shrugged like it was no big deal. But she remembered the way his eyes darkened when he saw her that evening, in the dress he had picked out. She remembered the way his breath caressed the back of her neck when he clasped the diamond necklace around her. And there was that delicious bruise he had sucked onto her inner thigh when he had gotten on his knees to help her into her shoes.

She was branded by him, even without the tattoo.

He bit down on his bottom lip, eyes trailing down her body like he too was reliving that memory. "Come here."

"Der," she sighed, unsure how much she could deny him. She knew what he wanted. But he was hurt. They shouldn't…

"Come."

It was one word. An innocent one at that. A command. And yet she felt her legs melt a bit. His dominant nature, when he let her see it, it was addicting. She may be an independent woman, but there was something about a man who knew what he wanted and had the follow through that did something for her. And if that tonight had proved anything, it was that he honored his promises.

She knelt beside him, not wanting to add any weight on his body.

"It's over," he repeated, one hand curling around her throat delicately. Not applying any pressure, just holding her where he wanted, keeping their eyes locked.

"I know."

"I wish I could have made him pay," he admitted, his thumb swiping across her jaw. "But keeping my promise to you was more important than my need for blood."

"Thank you," she whispered, meaning it. She could imagine what Derek wanted to do to Truman. It was probably exactly what he deserved. Killing him quickly was a mercy Truman should not have been offered. But it took a weight off her shoulders regardless.

"What now?" he asked. And although he seemed to be in control, he was letting her lead.

Casey thought about it for a second. "Now we get you checked out at the med bay. Then you probably need to debrief with Sam," she realized, unsure as to how long that would take but knowing it was important. "And then…" she trailed off, a smirk pulling at her mouth, one hand curling around the arm he was using to hold her.

In response, he pressed his thumb to her lips, his eyes seemingly mesmerized by her mouth. Her thoughts turned hazy as she pressed a kiss to the pad of his finger, considering sucking the digit into her mouth…

"And then?" he breathed, reminding her of where she had left off before slipping into the delicious subspace he had so easily led her to.

"And then we are not leaving our wing for a long, long, time," she explained slowly, finding herself leaning into him. "Understood?" she asked, the power going to her head, but it was a power that he freely gave over. It meant so much more.

"Understood," he groaned, pulling her in for another scorching kiss.