Adopted By Hamilton One Shots

Wake Up (Luke AU)

Kevin's POV

Abigail texted me yesterday saying that her husband was leaving at noon today, and she needed me over after he left. So, at 12:45, I was standing in front of her apartment, having just knocked. I heard little feet patter over to the door, and smiled, it was probably Betsy.

"Come in!" Betsy yelled, and I pushed the door open. "Sorry." She mumbled, and I realized she was too short to reach the doorknob.

"No problem shortcake." I laughed, squatting down and ruffling her neatly curled blonde hair. "Do you know where your mommy is?"

"Yeah, she's sleeping."

"Oh, in her room?"

"No, she's asleep on the floor in the living room, and she won't wake up. I tried to wake her up to play, after Daddy left, but she wouldn't move. I guess she's tired."

"Betsy." I took a deep breath, terrified, "sweetheart, can you go to your room for me?"

"Yeah." She nodded, and ran off down the hallway. I closed the front door, and carefully went into the living room, not wanting to see what I saw.

Abigail was curled up in a ball, in the center of the room, a nearby vase was broken, some of the glass was in her hair, and scattered around her, blood on it. I walked over to her and saw blood dripping out of a gash in her head.

Strange pangs rushed through me one after another, who was going to help her kids, what was her dad gonna do, am I responsible for this? Tons of different, haunting questions pinged around my whole body, all dependent on one question, did Luke kill her?

I rushed into the kitchen, grabbed a rag, then crouched back by her, I held the rag to the gash, applying pressure, trying to do everything I recalled from the semester class I took on supplementary trauma care. I quickly pressed my fingers to her pulse. It was barely there at this point, soft, slow, but regular.

"Okay Bunny, okay, uh, we're gonna go to the hospital, and then everything'll be just fine." I whispered to her, as I collected her in my arms, "it's all gonna be okay." I added, dialing 911.

"Uh, Mister, uh, Daddy?" My heart somersaulted, hearing Abigail's daughter call me her dad, then I was pulled back to reality. I was holding a mother of two who was dying, 911 was about to pick up the phone, and now I had to try and explain to a three year old, what happened to her mother.

"Pumpkin, can I have a minute?" I asked, then I heard someone pick up the phone.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"I need an ambulance. Right now, she's dying. Uh, sorry, I have a 23 year old woman right now, she has a six inch gash on her right forehead, and mediocre bruising around the arms and legs."

"Yes, of course, right away, what's your address?" She asked.

I rattled of Abigail's address, as I loaded Anthony into a stroller.

"We'll be there in five minutes." The lady said, and I exhaled.

"Okay, thank you so much, thank you." I sighed and kissed Abigail's head. I set Abigail down, laying on the ground, and grabbed a second rag for her head.