Children of Fire (Complete)

fifty-five

Emerson

God, my head was fucking pounding. It seemed like no matter what I did, no matter how many pain killers I took, there was a constant throbbing in my skull. Fuck Eddie. I understand his need for wanting to make Gideon suffer, but I don't understand why he chose to come after me. I wouldn't wish this on anyone (okay, that's a lie, I could totally wish this on a few people) but I just didn't understand why he thought coming after me would be a good idea. We had just started dating, and it wasn't like we had been out in public very often. Hell, I had never even met the guy before last night.

Speaking of which, it was hard to believe that so much had happened to us in such a short span of time. First there was the bomb in my office and now I get attacked at a fucking drug store? What did they have against me? I could only think of two people who would want me dead that badly, and it's not like my father or Greyson were involved with Eddie and his stupid gang... were they? Of course not, that would just be silly. The odds of them being involved were ridiculously low and I had no reason to believe that they would be involved in this. Besides, I hadn't heard anything from either one of them in years. Greyson would want me to know he was thinking of me at least... the sick bastard.

When Gideon had left the room to see whatever it was Gino needed him for I had tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable. Having Gideon here seemed to sooth my pain and comfort me in ways that I never thought were possible. My nose was throbbing, my side felt like it was splitting, and I honestly don't remember feeling this bad after I got stabbed. Huh, ain't that some shit?

I wasn't sure how long I had laid here waiting on Gideon to get back, but just as my eyes grew heavy with sleep, I heard the door creak open and heard the soft patting of Gideon's feet on the floor. I heard his clothes drop onto the plush carpet and felt the bed dip next to me with the weight of his perfectly sculpted body. Damn, when did I ever get so lucky? "Everything okay?" I asked, turning my head to get a good look at him. His hair was disheveled and pulled back messily into a bun at the nape of his neck, the stray hairs surrounding his face clung to his beard like velcro. There were dark circles under his eyes, and I could see the exhaustion written on his face-- he needed sleep. Badly.

"Yeah, I..." His voice trailed off and he swallowed hard, his eyes looking away from mine as he thought about something that caused his eyebrows to screw up in pain. "I just, I watched the security footage from the drugstore..." His voice trailed off again.

"Oh..." I said softly, looking down at the blanket sheepishly. I hated knowing that he saw what happened to me. I hated knowing that the weight of that incident seemed to rest on his shoulders. I hated that he had to see me so vulnerable, so broken, so battered.

"Baby," He started, gripping my face tenderly and forcing my eyes to meet his. "I am so sorry that happened to you." He said, sadness laced his voice. I didn't want him to feel sorry for me. Sure, I was the victim, but I didn't want to be treated like I was some delicate porcelain doll. I had been beaten worse than this, I had looked worse than this, and I had known worse men than Eddie.

"Don't." I said, my voice came out a bit more harsh than I had intended it to. I just... I didn't want his pity. I didn't want anyone's pity. I could see it in his eyes when he looked at me, and it had me feeling anxious about seeing anyone else when I got out of this bed. Especially Killian. I knew he was beating himself up over what happened. He blamed himself, that much was obvious. In a way, I couldn't blame him. If I were supposed to be watching someone and they were beaten the second I turned my head, I would feel pretty fucking guilty too. But, in my case, there was nothing that could have been done. I was pretty sure Eddie had been waiting for me in the bathroom, but I couldn't be positive of that. He would have gotten to me either way.