The last chapter in Carlisle's POV I think!

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I hadn't seen a proper sunrise in forever. The windows were a little foggy from our breath, but it quickly dissipated as Garrett turned the key in the ignition and blasted the heaters at the windscreen. He had one hand on my thigh, squeezing whenever my breath hitched, the other around a disposable coffee cup. The panic attack had faded enough that all I was left with was horrible, cloying embarrassment, the burning in my cheeks in stark contrast to the cold morning air.

"It's pretty," he commented softly.

I sniffed, coughing to clear my throat, but only ended up nodding in response. I wasn't sure how I was going to get past the guilt of waking him up at five AM with my bullshit, especially after he'd been depriving himself of sleep for the purpose of keeping me safe.

His hand drifted to find my fingers as he looked over at me. "Fox knocked a mug off of the kitchen counter; that's what shattered."

I'd been convinced that someone was breaking in when I'd violently woken up, unable to calm down until we'd left the apartment, Garrett ushering me into the car so that we weren't standing in the hallways while I hyperventilated. He'd driven us around the city aimlessly, eventually ordering us both warm drinks via a drive-through and bringing us to a stop in the depths of a local park. Again, I just nodded. I couldn't bring myself to look at him, letting the harsh orange of the sun burn into my retinas until my eyes watered from the intensity.

"Carlisle, you understand that Caius was never in the apartment?" he asked carefully.

"I know." I swallowed, wishing the tightness in my chest would ease.

Leaning across the gearbox, his hand brushed my cheek as he pressed a kiss to my temple. "Was it a nightmare?"

I could have laughed - he was being so patient despite thinking I'd dragged him out of bed because of a bad dream. "No, I just…I woke up when something smashed, and I thought he was in the house." I couldn't offer him a proper explanation, not having one for the absolute insanity that I'd subjected him to for the last hour. I'd already apologised to him over and over again, and he'd shushed me enough that I resisted doing it again. "What time do you have to go to work?" The thought filled me with dread, forcing the lump back into my throat.

"I'll stay home with you; we can get some sleep." Another soft kiss, though this time he guided my lips to his, letting the hand brake between us dig into his thigh. "I've asked Alistair not to come today. We can go home and rest once you're feeling okay."

I took a sip of my drink to keep myself quiet. Eventually, I couldn't stand it. "Garrett?"

"Yeah?"

"I need to move."

"Move house, or move cities?" he asked cautiously, hesitant now. Emotion automatically edged into his tone and he took his hands off me.

"Move house," I mumbled. "Maybe cities - I don't know."

"With…" He blew out a tight breath, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "With me, or…"

The thought of it was making my tea churn in my stomach. I drew blood as I bit the inside of my lip. "With you, if you'll come."

"Of course I'll come." He relaxed back into his seat.

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We both took a nap once we got home. I felt more secure with his arms locked around my middle, his chest pressed to my back and his leg between mine, actually managing to get a few hours of peaceful sleep. I was alone in bed the next time I woke up. Not alone - the cat was on the duvet next to me. I could hear him clattering around in the kitchen, but didn't immediately feel the need to seek him out - not after this morning. My hand drifted to my abdomen as it twinged, cramping, and I wondered how he was going to cope with me if I was sick today as well.

Lying in bed didn't help. Nervous and uncomfortable, I had to get up, dithering too long as I tried to get dressed and my middle protested to anything that squeezed. Not that anything actually fit me anymore anyway. I took Fox as a barrier when I finally built up enough courage to join him; I couldn't avoid him forever.

It seemed like an eternity since he'd had enough energy to bake anything. I lingered in the kitchen doorway for as long as I could, catching my lip between my teeth to hold back a smile as he hummed along to the song playing on the radio, singing the few words to the chorus he knew. So fucking cute. And his shirt pulled taught across his shoulders, outlining his biceps and-

Fox meowed in my arms and he turned at the sound of her voice. Caught, I tried to pretend I hadn't been standing there for almost five minutes as my blush gave me away regardless. "What're you making?"

His returning smile was a little shy. "Scones, and, uh, bread - the store bought stuff doesn't seem to sit well with you."

I didn't know how to tell him that this wasn't going to be any better. Instead, I just nodded.

He crossed over to me, taking the cat from my arms so that he could hug me against him. "Are you feeling better now that you've slept?" His palm ran the length of my spine, smoothing my sweatshirt, and he squeezed me as I coiled my arms around his neck. I couldn't stop the automatic reaction I had to his touch, crushing the space between us as his hands shifted from my waist to my ass, pushing my hips into his before moving back up and under my shirt.

My fingers knotted in his hair as I stood on my toes, desperate for his lips on mine, pulling him down to me. The kiss was needy, my hatred for the clothing between us growing as his mouth moved to my neck. Another stab from my stomach brought on an involuntary wince, far too obvious to hide from Garrett while he was so close.

His hold on me immediately softened. He released me, kissing my temple and ushering me toward the table. "Sit."

I did, pleased to be able to lean forward a little, the change in my posture taking the edge off. I tried not to panic as he ferreted around for the tablets I was due, suddenly so nauseous that it was making me lightheaded. I dug my elbows into the tabletop, holding my weight against the wood to ride out the sensation. I was about to ruin his whole day, not just the morning.

"Hey." The glass knocked too loudy on the table as he set it beside me, the pills in an eggcup beside it.

"I'm okay - just need a minute," I told him through clenched teeth.

Sighing, he continued rubbing my shoulder until I could relax a little, able to breathe again. "That bad?"

I shook my head at him, not bothering to ask what they were as I swallowed the pills, fairly sure I'd bring them back up regardless. It was another few minutes before I felt well enough to be able to sit back, and by that time he'd settled in the chair next to me, a muffin in front of both of us - homemade. God knows how long that man had been awake. "You've really been busy this morning," I commented.

He wasn't about to be distracted. "It doesn't have to be that, but you've got to have something, Carlisle."

I wished he'd lay off, at least until my body relented. "This is fine. Thanks." My mouth was dry as I took the tiniest bite I could manage. He was a very good baker - even sick, I wished that I was able to have it. "You could do this for a living, you know."

He rolled his eyes.

"I mean it, Gar. You like doing it, right?"

"I can't exactly take on a new job right now."

Right. He hadn't said it meanly, but I couldn't look at him again, guilty and anxious and nauseous. I forced down the rest of the muffin out of self-loathing.

He trapped my knee between his under the table. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm happy with our lives - if you weren't feeling terrible all the time," he corrected quietly. His hand caught mine to stop me picking the muffin wrapped apart. "I like things the way they are. I get to spend time with you and my family, my job isn't stressful and I like my coworkers - I don't want anything to change."

"There's a few things I would change," I mumbled.

He chuckled softly. "I know things aren't perfect right now, but I'm happy.

"Even I woke you up in the middle of the night?" I dared to glance up at him, relieved to find him smiling back.

"Yeah. We watched the sunrise - that's romantic, isn't it?" Garrett waited until I'd nodded before he reached over to take my hand. "I do think we need to work on making you feel safer at home, though. Especially until we move."

I could have cried, that he'd taken my need to pack up and leave so easily. "I love you."

"I love you too, Carlisle."

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After a few hours of work and my stomach settling down considerably, I'd let him coerce me into coming out to a department store with him. It was less intimidating than staying home alone, but I was regretting my decision by the time we parked out the front of the store. The weather had soured, threatening rain, and Garrett was determined that we could get in and out before it poured. I was sure that he was too optimistic.

I couldn't remember what we'd come for as I held his hand. I let him lead me inside, keeping a tight hold of his fingers and the basket as he pulled me from isle to isle.

"You have to promise me, that you're not going to freak out and accidentally spray me with this." He sounded serious, but I'd been zoned out since we stepped in the door. My eyes met his and he immediately saw that I had no idea what he was talking about. "Focus, Carlisle. If we buy this, you can't spray Alistair or I with it if you get a fright."

I glanced down at what he was holding. Pepper spray. "I won't," I promised quietly.

"Good." He dropped it into the basket, his hand moving to my jaw, fitting his lips to mine. "We can get a deadbolt for the front door as well, if it would make you feel better?"

Feeling dumb, I just nodded. Anything to keep him out. So that I could sleep without fear of waking up to him looming over me.

He kissed me again, linking our fingers together as he led me toward the hardware section. We were both clueless standing in front of the locks and tools. I was pretty sure we owned a single screwdriver, unsure whether it would even fit the bolts when Garrett asked me.

"Maybe we don't need a lock," I mumbled to him. I desperately searched his expression for any sign that he was getting annoyed with me, but found no sign of it.

He brushed his hand down my back, shaking his head. "I can borrow some stuff from Eleazar; you need to be able to relax in your own home."

I leaned into him, silently thankful. I was losing the capacity to make any decisions, blindly agreeing to whatever he wanted, needing his guidance as he navigated the rest of the store. We had a cart full of stuff, but I couldn't remember what we'd gotten by the time we reached the car again. Gar opened my door for me, waiting until I'd sat down before offering me a careful smile.

"You've done well today. Are you tired?"

"Yeah. Not too bad, though - it's been…nice?" I offered. I shut my door as he headed back around the vehicle to climb into the driver's seat.

"You okay though? You're looking a little pale, and you've been pretty quiet for a while," he commented. Starting the car, his hand drifted from the gearbox to my thigh, squeezing.

"I'm just…I really am getting tired," I admitted.

"You're getting better; you couldn't have handled this a week ago."

"It's slow progress," I grumbled under my breath.

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I wasn't much help making dinner. I peeled the vegetables, but Garrett was stuck with everything else - even the pot was too heavy for me to lift onto the element, both of us cringing at the sound it made on the ceramic bench top when it dragged. He took it from me, setting it next to the saucepan he'd been focused on for the last few minutes. There was chicken in the oven and an array of ingredients on our benchtop; I hadn't been listening when he'd explained what we were making. "Are you sure you don't want to lie down for a while?" he asked once my frustration was visible. He didn't sound half as irritated as I felt.

I stubbornly shook my head. Judging from the box on the table, I knew what he actually wanted to do together; I couldn't just go to bed while he'd been so tolerant of me all day. "I'm okay. We can do puzzles."

He laughed quietly, covering the pot with a lid before he caught me in his arms. "I only bought it because we need something to do together while you're ill that isn't staring at the TV. I can wake you up once dinner is ready."

"I'm not going back to bed. I just want to have one day that I don't sleep through," I mumbled into his chest. It resulted in another gentle squeeze, his hands drifting under the hem of my shirt. I let him nudge me backwards until we reached the table, conceding that sitting down at the very least was a good idea. I tore the plastic off the puzzle box once he'd returned to cooking. The cat on the front looked remarkably like the one at my feet, and there was no way it wasn't intentional. I failed at swallowing a smile. "You're cute," I accused.

He didn't turn to face me, but the back of his neck flushed pink.

"You got this from the store today?"

"Yes, you were right next to me when I picked it so don't complain - you said you didn't care." He'd tried to keep his tone light, but he was starting to sound stressed again. "You were pretty spacey there for a bit; do you think the painkillers are a little too strong? It could be why you don't feel too good after your medications."

I swallowed. "I think Caius is poisoning me."

He froze for so long that the pot boiled over onto the stove. I couldn't look up from the tabletop, my vision slowly blurring as tears welled up. "Poisoning you, how?" he asked eventually. "In your food?"

"N-no, the pills. I think he's fucking with them." I listened to the shuffling of his clothing as he approached me again, but kept staring at the grain in the wood, my heart hammering so hard I was sure he could hear it. I winced when his hand landed on my shoulder.

He crouched, leveling us, his free hand catching my chin. "Because you're still feeling awful?"

I nodded. My teeth dug into my lip until my mouth tasted metallic. He was going to hate me. Throw me out. Leave me.

"How long has it been since you've taken the correct doses? Have you…I've given you medication a few times today, did you not take it? I watched you swallow, Carlisle, did you make yourself sick?" He didn't sound upset, but I still panicked.

"No, I- I took it, I always take what you give me. But with Al-" I was fucking stupid. I shouldn't have been worried about Alistair saying anything if I was going to blurt it out myself.

He sighed, silent for a few seconds. "I thought we got past this, baby."

I shook my head. "I did for a little bit. But I don't know why else I'm still sick, and I can't keep on top of anything."

"You've felt better today than usual, yes?" he pushed gently, kissing my cheek, my temple, wherever he could reach while I refused to face him. He took my silence as a positive. "And you've not missed any of the medication you've been prescribed so far today. Don't you think those two things are related?"

"I know I'm dumb, but I'm not crazy," I pleaded. "Please, Gar, I know I sound insane and I can't explainhow he's doing it, but-" I cut myself off before I said anything else condemning.

He forced a smile, sliding his palm down my arm to find my fingers. "I don't think you are either, but you've had a traumatic year, and we know you're very anxious. I get sealed boxes from the pharmacy - it's safe. There's no way for Caius to know anything about what you take to begin with, let alone where we pick it up."

"Heidi knew, though," I reminded him. "She knows what's wrong with me - he'll be able to find it if she can."

"She's nuts, and I reported her to the police the other day - they aren't connected." Rubbing my hand with his thumb, he laced our fingers together, watching my face as I tried to mask any emotion. It was enough to distract me for a second.

"What'd they say? The police, I mean." Finally, I let our eyes meet, the anger I feared I'd find absent. My heart calmed slightly.

"Nothing, really. Just to call back if she does anything else." The pot rattling obnoxiously combined with the oven timer beeping was enough to pull him to his feet, planting a firm kiss on my lips on his way up.

I waited until he was across the room before circling back to the issue. "He's going to come here, I know it." Part of me hoped he wouldn't hear. I planted my elbows on the tabletop, knotting my hands against my scalp, pulling in hopes the burn would ward off the oncoming panic attack.

"We're looking at moving now anyway - sooner rather than later, right? In the meantime, we'll get that bolt on the door, and you're armed and dangerous now," he teased easily. "You're not on your own long enough to get into any trouble; Al or I will always be with you. He's not going to hurt you again, Carlisle; it's over."

My throat was painfully tight. "I don't want him to hurt you either, though."

"We'll all be fine. Are you feeling brave enough to try this?" He'd armed himself with a spoon and whatever was in the pan, but hadn't dared to step away from the bench until I'd given my consent. "I've been careful; there's nothing weird in there - I've cut down."

I laughed without thinking. "Gar, I hate to break it to you, but I'm sure you have our entire pantry on the counter right now."

He rolled his eyes, grinning. "This, coming from the person who thinks pepper is seasoning."

"It is!" I defended.

"It's a spice, babe. There's none in here anyway, try it? If you hate it, I won't put it in your dinner," he reasoned. "I'll let you have a boring dinner in peace." It had been a running joke when we'd moved in together and he'd discovered my barbaric cooking skills, though he'd slowly nudged herbs and spices into the array of things that I was semi-comfortable using.

Holding out my hand for the spoon, I already knew it'd taste fine. Whether the tiny bit I swallowed would immediately hurt my stomach was going to be a different story. "It isn't your food, Garrett, it's just-"

"I know," he interrupted. "But you don't need to eat a whole meal of it to find out whether it's not right."

"You've…you've spent a lot of time in the kitchen today."

"I've missed it - it's been a while since I've had time," he admitted. "It's nice; I wish it was less risky for you, though. It feels a little high-stakes at the moment." Taking the utensil back from me, he tossed it into the sink, taking a seat next to me. "Still feeling okay?"

"I'm good, Gar."

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Dinner went well. Stayed down, even with the fancy sauces. It had been a couple of hours, and the usual nausea had never hit, my medication going down easily too. Garrett's distractions helped a lot - we'd spread the puzzle out across the coffee table like 80 year old women, sitting on the floor next to each other to put it together. He'd been a little ambitious with 1000 pieces, but we'd finished the edges along with half a bottle of wine in the last two hours.

It had gone straight to my head. My limbs were warm and tingly, the room spinning if I moved too quickly, and I felt genuinely good for the first time in months. The novelty of being able to drink again - be it only a little - was exciting. "You know, you're not much help with this; you've spent far too long staring at me," he told me matter of factly, looking up in time to catch me out again.

I rolled my eyes and tried not to smile. "You started it."

"How?" he challenged. He'd ducked his head again, suddenly very focused on the jigsaw, a little flustered suddenly.

It didn't help me calm down at all. "You made me dinner and plied me with alcohol, what'd you expect from me?"

"It isn't my fault you get giggly after barely half a glass, Carlisle."

"I think you owe me a kiss to make up for it." I held his gaze the next time he risked a glance up at me, briefly wondering how mad he'd be if I shoved aside the table between us and lost all our progress.

He caught hold of my shirt as I shuffled around the furniture to get to him, tugging me to my feet as he stood up to pull me onto the couch. His palm brushed my cheek as he leaned in to bring his lips to mine. It was soft, gentle, the hand at my hip still cautious. I didn't have the strength to shift him when I tried to drag him closer to me, grasping the fabric at his chest, but he went anyway, his hand planted at my shoulder to hold his weight off of me. "Careful," he warned.

"I'm fine." Tracing the lines of his back, the outlines of his shoulder blades while he hovered over me, I tried to pull his body into my own, to crush the space between us. His tongue rolled against mine, a moan slipping between his lips as I dug my nails into him.

He nudged me back against the couch, nuzzling his face against my neck to press kisses to my throat. My hands automatically went to his hair as he pushed up my shirt, his fingers trailing my sides as my back arched under him, teasing kisses across my ribs until he reached the waistband of my jeans. "Are you still feeling alright?" he asked softly.

It seemed like an irrelevant question. I just nodded, biting down on my lip as he fidgeted with my belt buckle, his mouth returning to mine. My hand drifted down his back to squeeze his ass, pausing to bunch in his shirt as he pushed his hips into mine. My heart was racing, making me a little lightheaded, but I couldn't bring myself to care as he nudged his leg between my thighs and I couldn't keep myself from grinding against him.

"Are you sure?" he checked again. He pressed a kiss against my jaw, chuckling as I whined through my teeth.

"Yes- yeah, I'm fine." My hands shook as I pulled at his slacks, fumbling with the button so badly that I surrendered and palmed him through the fabric. "We should go to bed?" I suggested. Everything we needed was in the bedside table, and I wasn't prepared to makedo without. Moving was unappealing though. Not helped by how firmly he pulled me to him, how desperately I wanted his touch.

He had me up before I knew what was happening, walking me backwards down the hallway as he stole hungry kisses, hands on my hips. I fell back as soon as I felt the bed brush the back of my legs, taking a handful of his shirt to pull him down with me. The loss of friction was unbearable, and I wasted no time locking my leg around his waist as he settled over me, craving the intimacy we had before.

I put a little more effort into loosening his pants this time, one-handley popping the button undone while pulling at his shirt with the other. I lifted myself slightly as he unzipped my fly, strangling a moan as he jerked my jeans down my thighs, letting me shift against him with only our underwear between us.

I had my hands on him as soon as his boxes were down, not giving him a chance to recover as he awkwardly kicked them off. He was as hard as I was, but didn't make any attempt to relieve it as he slowly undressed me. I trailed my fingertips down his chest as he reached over me to open the draw. His palm was slick with lube the next time he touched me. I could barely stand it, losing concentration as I tried to keep my movements steady. It was taking everything I had to keep from begging him to hurry up, but I barely got out two words.

He kissed me to shut me up. "I don't think we should, Carlisle," he murmured.

I had to swallow away a bubble of hurt, the wave of insecurity that crashed over me, the sudden breathlessness. "We've come this far." I stretched up to grab hold of the bottle of lube, sure I could push him to the point of no return.

He peppered more kisses along my jaw, humming softly as I tilted my head back. "I think it'll be unpleasant for you while you're not feeling so hot," he argued.

"This is hot, you jerk," I complained bitterly. It was hard to keep my conviction as he laughed easily, his hand moving against me in confident strokes that I failed to mimic. It was getting far too difficult to think.

"Not what I meant," he snickered. He was enjoying teasing me way too much. "At least, slow down a little."

I had no idea how he was still so coherent.

His lips dipped back to mine, one hand splayed against the small of my back as I arched into him, the other against my thigh, shifting my hips on the bed. A little dizzy, it was a relief to be lying back on the mattress, comforting to have the weight of his body on mine. Maybe he was right. Maybe slow wasn't bad.

His conviction was gone by the time he pushed inside of me. His arms were under my shoulders, elbows dug into the bed, hands tangled in my hair as we built up a steady rhythm. I shifted to meet him in all the right places, unable to keep from digging my fingernails into his back.

We lay in silence for a few minutes once it was over, both trying to catch our breath. I kissed his jaw in search of his lips, humming softly when his hand brushed the side of my face. "Wanna take a shower with me?"

He laughed softly. "Let me get some feeling back in my legs first."

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I'd made a small dent in the mountain of tasks I had due by Friday morning. Things felt better - the weakness and dizzy spells remained, but my stomach was more tolerant and I hadn't passed out in over a week. Al had started staying overnight occasionally, managing not to torment Garrett too much, though the snarky comments persisted well after dinner each night. I didn't think it made Gar resent him any less. At least he was finally able to get some sleep.

My boyfriend didn't acknowledge him as the front door opened, usual coffee in hand as he pulled me into a one-armed hug. "Hey, what are we doing today?"

I knew he was joking, not expecting a genuine response, but I figured it would be a good time to broach the subject - they were both going to flip. "Will you come with me to work? I need to go into the office."

"Carlisle," he warned. His expression hardened as he shook his head, Garrett telling me absolutely not after he'd finished choking on his bagel.

"Please, I'll be so quick - I just need to use the printer, and I've been doing better." They couldn't legally stop me, I didn't think. I'd never make it on my own, but Al would be easy to coerce once Gar was gone for the day. In an attempt to prove that it was fine, that I was alright and they could stop fucking hovering, I stood too quickly.

The room warped sideways as my blood pressure dipped, my watch beeping as my pulse skyrocketed uselessly. It was my fault - I should have been more careful.

Garrett caught me as I stumbled, his arms winding gently around me and his lips at my temple. "Careful. Are you sure you're feeling alright?" he whispered.

"I'm okay, Gar." Everything eased after another minute and I got my bearings back. "I'm fine."

"Look after him?" he sighed, finally acknowledging Alistair as he allowed their eyes to meet. He kept his arms tightly around my chest to keep me from squirming away.

"I'm not here for fun, Garrett," Al snapped back.

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My stomach churned the entire drive in. The cab driver drove far too violently at each turn, and I didn't dare take my eyes off the windscreen out of fear of vomiting all over his expensive leather seats. Alistair's hand remained on my thigh, squeezing whenever I tensed, glaring at the back of the driver's head. "This was a bad idea," I whispered to him.

"You insisted," he reminded me. He popped my seatbelt undone as the vehicle came to a stop, tipping the driver as we scrambled out into the cool air. The blurring of people rushing around us, hurrying to work, instantly gave me a headache. "Come; you print, and then we go home."

Achievable. I hoped, anyway. I linked my fingers through his as we walked toward my office, burning suddenly despite our breath being visible in the cold air. My knees were wobbling under me as I scanned the faces of everyone we walked past, searching for him in the sea of bodies. I was so nervous that I couldn't breathe.

He squeezed my hand. "Everything okay?" he asked lowly.

I nodded. Tried to swallow. Forced a breath.

"Carlisle." He tugged my wrist hard enough to jerk me to his side, his free hand creeping onto my hip. "You sure?"

"I think he's going to be here, Al," I admitted. "I don't want to see him again."

He didn't have to ask who I was referring to. "They fired him. You're worrying about him more than you used to."

"No I'm not," I denied uselessly.

"Yeah, you are. First with your medication, and then with this. He can't get anywhere near you."

"Maybe."

Sighing heavily, he led me up the front steps, ushering me forward with his hand at the small of my back. "It'll be fine; let's get this over with."

My hopes that I'd be able to slip in and out without anyone noticing were almost immediately dashed; all it took was accidental eye contact with one of my coworkers to trigger a painful round of small talk. It seemed impolite to push them away while they were trying to be nice, hugging me a little too tightly, drawing too much attention, confusing Alistair for Garrett and continuing to address him as my partner. Another worried sweep of the room, and I still couldn't find Caius. Maybe I was crazy.

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The nausea hit again as I pulled up my files on the screen. My stomach lurched, and I straightened my spine as I tried to ride it out, completely unsuccessful and having to ignore the stars in my vision as I jumped up too quickly. My ankle rolled, a sharp pain up my calf, my hip hitting the edge of my desk as I tripped.

Someone caught the back of my jacket, their other hand at my hip as they stopped me falling. "Are you alright? Should I call your boyfriend back in here?" It was one of my coworkers, now hovering like a concerned parent, his arms floating around me without actually touching once I caught my balance. Alistair had disappeared in search of a more substantial breakfast fifteen minutes ago. Silently willing him to come back wasn't making it happen, apparently.

"He's not my-" I cut myself off - that really wasn't the hill I needed to die on right then. Another sickening roll from my insides, and I mumbled an excuse, a thank-you, scrambling to get away from them.

The dizziness wouldn't fade. Shouldering the bathroom door open, I struggled to keep my feet under myself to stumble into a stall, my hand pressed over my lips to suppress it just a little longer. My stupid phone was abandoned on my desk - I couldn't even call Al.

The door swung open again. Caius. I was sure of it. I slammed the stall door so hard that it bounced back at me. My balance was gone - the complaint in my ankle didn't register as I twisted it again. Neither did the crack of my head against the particle board dividers. Only the crunch in my shoulder as I slammed it into the tiles, the room a blur as I landed hard on the ground, jarring my back and feeling the wrenching of my hip shoot down my thighs.

My ears rang. He'd kill me this time. My wrist wouldn't hold me, refusing to cooperate, crumbling under my weight. I couldn't see. The air was gone from my lungs. My chest heaved as I choked, sick and unable to roll, my neck too stiff. I'd die here. He'd kill me on a filthy public restroom floor.

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