Author's Note:

I split the chapter's around 1500 - 2500 words to try and avoid the glitch where chunks of text disappear, so this is shorter than I like but I rather not risk missing parts of this.

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A slight warning for this chapter. It's listed in the warnings chapter to minimize spoilers.

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"Mr. Barnes!!!" Eve's voice shrieked.

I whirled around. Something had to be seriously wrong with –

"Holy fuck! Drop it!!! Why the flying fuck did you do that!?!"

A knife clattered to the floor tiles from his hand.

"I... Urgh...!" He desperately clutched onto his thigh, his face skewing in agony. Blood quickly seeped through his fingers and into his jeans. "I don't... I don't know...."

The confusion in his eyes made it all the more worse. He had no idea why.

"Sit! Get that leg elevated above your heart! Eve! Tell me he didn't cut something important!" I scrambled for the roll of paper towels and threw it at him. "Keep pressure on it!!!"

My mind whirled through all random trivia I've accumulated over the years for something of use. With my own injured leg, I quickly swiped the kitchen knife across the room. Did not need to have a repeat.

"He missed it. Somehow...."

"Superglue!" I barked out, and I heard a drawer open in the formal dining room. "How safe is it!?" My left ankle screamed for me to stop moving, but who cares.

"It may cause irritation. Burns if you use too much."

"'Kay...?"

With a huff, I tossed out the contents off the drawer on the floor. I plucked the annoyingly packaged superglue and quickly hobbled back into the kitchen.

"Pantry. Bottom shelf to your right. Spirytus. 96%," Eve prompted.

The restocked first aid kit was too far away.

It was buried behind a couple of bottles, but at least it was far better than pouring sticky Kahlua in the wounds.

Grabbing the knife off the floor, I started on trying to fight the plastic package of the superglue.

"Oh that is not what kitchen knives are used for, Val.... Do you have any idea how expensive those are?"

Ignoring Eve and dropping down next to the pool of blood, I waved his hands away and cut the denim of his pants to get a better look.

'Nope. I still can't handle large cuts.'

Shaking away the need to hurl, I blindly groped for a cork mat while my other hand worked the Spirytus cap off.

"Bite. It's going to hurt. Sorry, Buddy."

Those blue eyes were dead set on mine. Made me feel an anchor in his sea of pain. But when the alcohol drenched his leg, he couldn't help the scream that escaped him.

Luckily, he didn't try to fight me off or move much at all as I got to work with the superglue. A few drops down the length. Squeeze closed. Hold for...

"How long do I hold this for?"

"Directions says thirty seconds."

As my mind settled down, I looked up from the bloody mess. The man in front of me was so torn. The emotional whirlwind in those blue eyes was heart wrenching.

His slowly released the cork mat when I took hold of it. His shoulders heaved with every trembling breath he took.

"What was that about?" I asked softly, releasing his thigh and frowning.

I needed another round to deal with the top edge. Just a couple of drops should seal it all up.

He turned away, probably staring at something unseen. "I... I hurt you.... I had to... I had to...."

'Wow. That systematic programming.'

He was obedient to a T. It didn't matter if he was in pain, he did exactly as I ordered in the mess moments ago.

'I wonder....' Squeezing his cut shut again, I mulled over my words. "Look at me."

That confirmed his obedience.

"Don't ever do that again. I don't care if you go into a crowd guns a blazing or even deep fry me in a vat of oil. Do not harm yourself. Understood?"

He nodded carefully.

"Repeat it."

"I will not harm myself," he half mumbled.

It was better than nothing.

"Good." I offered a friendly grin, trying to lighten things up. If only by a pinch.

Or maybe even get some life back into that eerily blank face. Superglue wasn't supposed to numb the pain, so he shouldn't be so blank.

Then confusion set on his sweaty brow. "...Why would I deep fry you...?"

I shrugged with a chuckle. "Just popped into my head and it sounded like a pretty painful way to go. But seriously, don't cut yourself up like this."

His eyes dropped and nodded again. "It was... instinct."

"Shitty instincts for a fighter," I grumbled, releasing the cut again and nodding at the work.

It was sealed. Pouring some vodka onto a pile of neatly folded paper towels, I gingerly cleaned the blood off his skin.

"And I doubt it's instincts, Buddy. It's more like something ingrained into you. Through repetition... probably."

When I got to work on the bloody floor, his right hand reached across his body and grabbed onto mine.

"Let me," he insisted.

Didn't seem like he wanted to use his left arm for more reasons than just that it hurt him.

"Good. 'Cause this idiot would do a shitty cosmetic job of it. The cola's in the pantry."

"Hey," I huffed, even putting on a pout. "Should you be on that leg already?"

"It's mission operational," he answered rather devoid of emotions, walking into the pantry. Not a limp in sight.

'Did they fry his nerves? No, his arm still bothers him, and he was screaming just now....' I sighed a little, knowing what it probably was.

Weakness was unacceptable.

"Trained not to limp as well?" When the words left my mouth, I couldn't help feeling glad my parents weren't here.

That mask of perfection was nothing but suffocating and at times painful when five inch heels were paired with a sprained ankle.

"What?" a muffled word from the pantry.

Even so, it was gruffer than his usual husky tone. Slightly strained. I doubt it was my place to tell him that he could drop the training, which was probably seared into that built body of his.

"Leave the cleanup for later. We should get this blood off us before we eat?"

The pasta should be okay to last through a quick shower, right?

'Now to figure out how to get upstairs without leaving a bloody trail....'

Eve would have my head if I did. There were already red footprints leading into the pantry, and I was sitting in a pool of it. Crawling was not an option.

"It's good to see your brain working properly again. I can't believe you tried your hand at suturing with how out of it you were."

I couldn't help the jump when the snap and fizzle of a pop can opening hit my ears from directly behind me. He spilled it into the pool and washed off his feet as well.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," he said after a moment of silence.

"It's okay. I learned a couple of things about superglue today. Huh? What are you –? Oof.... Buddy?"

Again, I found myself slung over his shoulder while he was injured and hauled about like a sack of potatoes. But it did solve my problem of getting to the shower without Eve screaming about the carpeting.

Even with a cut leg, he was absolutely steady on his feet. His shoulders swaggering with his strides. With surprising ease, the one armed lowered me onto the cold tiles.

"I'll change the compress later." With that, he left me sitting in the master bathroom shower.

The moment the door shut behind him, the shower ran.

"FUCK!!! EVE!! YOU – YOU ASSHOLE!!! IT'S FREEZING!!!!"

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Author's Note:

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