Phobia.

Blake shoved me aside suddenly, the harsh brick sending a stabbing pain down my side. I whined, moving, two of the men were on Blake, thankfully not using the gun but beating him with hard hands.

I wanted to scream, but couldn’t, it was physically trapped in my throat, twitching. Instead my jaw was left gaping, each sound of skin against skin, fists against flesh was striking through me. The third man came forward with the hammer and I was suddenly able to move, yelling, grabbing the closest and trying to tug him away, digging my nails into his leg.

Blake managed to push them off, “Keira, get back now!” His face was already bloody, a cut forming over his eyebrow, spilling from his nose.

“No, get off of him!” I screeched, putting myself between him and the men and feeling a sudden searing pain in my check, my jaw.

He’d just punched me square in the face.

I felt my eyes prickle, my peripheral vision was fuzzy, turning black but I fought it back, going for his face, pathetic girlish scratches, weak punches, but it sent him spilling to the floor, and the gun skidding onto the cold cement.

The guy with the hammer saw, finally striking, a cluster of brick dust falling close to my head, into my hair as I scrambled for the weapon, holding it up unsteadily, my hands shaking.

I’d held a gun before.

I’d shot someone before, not that Blake knew that, would know that.

“Get off of him now!” I demanded, the hammer swung again and I panicked, my finger pressing hard on the trigger, the shot echoing, stopping the fighting in a split second as blood splattered against the grey wall, grew through his thin coat.

The hammer fell from his hand, hitting loud against the floor, the distraction giving Blake time to shove the man from him, pull his own weapon that had they been struggling with out.

He spat blood, his face already swelling, mine still burning all down one side, a pulse of flame.

One man tried to run and I shot again, too comfortable, my aim giving me away as it hit him through the head, penetrated his skull.

“Keira.” Blake’s voice was aghast, and he staggered a little towards me, grabbing the gun from my shaking hands as the last man dragged himself to his feet, looking terrified, a light smear of blood over one eye that was already closed.

We watched him struggle down the alleyway, my breathing heavy, my pulse racing in terror and with another feeling I couldn’t describe.

“Keira.” His voice was slurred and in a trance I turned to him, his face instantly breaking it.

“Oh god, your face.” I all but sobbed, ripping my woollen glove off and touching gently under his nose, “We need to get somewhere safe now before they come back.”

“Those two won’t be coming back.” He said stiffly, leaning down with a wince to check them over, I did the same, the movement causing the clear break of my rib to hit me again and I hissed a little.

“Blake, come on.” I was trying to keep calm, sane.

Not let the adrenalin pumping through me win. I wanted to run after the final man, how dare he touch Blake, do this to him. But I had to focus on Blake, I stood, pressing the glove back to his face again, earning his own hiss.

“Blake, now, come on, give me the radio and I’ll call someone, we can go to the store.” He nodded and I half dragged him, surprised he was conscious by the swelling on his head, the blood loss, he already looked pale and the adrenalin filtered away and panic took over.

“Hello?” I croaked down the radio, my throat clenching, waiting through the static for the reply.
“We’ve been attacked, Blake’s not great. We’re coming to the store.”

“I’ll be there in five. Where are you? I’ll send Folley.”

“No,” Blake slurred, growing steadily less able on his feet, slipping on some ice, “Too much attention.”

“Just meet us there.” I barked, shoving it into my pocket and grabbing both guns from him, joining the radio.

His eyes were fluttering, “Sweetie, you need to stay awake I can’t carry you.” I urged, linking our arms, having to stop every few metres to let him blink hard, let me dab more blood from his face.

“You’re going to need stitches,” I murmured tugging him gently again, the cold, if anything was soothing on my face, numbing it. I hoped it was having the same effect on him.

“Just two more blocks babe.” I pushed, his eyes drooping completely shut for a couple of seconds, “You can’t fall asleep, not if you’re concuss. Blake... Blake!” I snapped, looking around us cautiously, he was leaving a trail of blood drops behind us and I quickly kicked the last few over with snow.

“My head hurts.” He mumbled.

“I know, but you have to keep walking over and you’ll be all better.”

“But it hurts Keira.”

My whole body hurt just at the sight of him.

“I know, okay, lets just, lets get all the way to that lamp-post without stopping okay? Then it will stop hurting I promise.”

“Pinky swear?”

I had to bite my lip to stop from whimpering, “Yeah, pinky swear, come on.”
_______________________________

I shifted, my mouth pursing as I lifted my shirt up, my side was black, patches of purple and green.

“I reckon you’ve just cracked one or two, I’d prefer to x-ray but that isn’t going to happen. Wrap it tight, even if it’s uncomfortable, and keep an eye on it.” He felt along my protruding ribs, gently even as I jerked a little whenever it hurt. “I can’t imagine it’s any worse than that, unlikely for any splinters, but,yeah, keep an eye on it, if it doesn’t improve in a few days let Gordon know and I’ll have a look.”

I thanked him, some random doctor I hadn’t met before that was aware of the plan, but spent his time at a homeless shelter, doing what he could.

Thankfully Bane hadn’t gotten to him, although apparently he had sent his wife out onto the ice.
That was their exile now, the same way they had sent people when it was unfrozen and they stood more of a chance.

“Your nose and everything is alright?”

“Yeah, it’s fine, just going to bruise.”

“That it most definitely is.”

I wasn’t bothered about myself, I was fine, I could deal with this.
I’d done worse to myself.

And yet Blake had never noticed the lines running horizontally over the top of my thighs.
Or he had simply never mentioned them, accepting another damaged piece of my past.
I almost felt the urge to add to them now, the worry too much.

“How is Blake?” I asked eventually, he had been in here before me when I was explaining to Folley, Gordon who appeared breathless, a chunk of ice wrapped in a scarf to my cheek.

“He’ll survive, he took quite a beating. I’ve wrapped his chest, his ribs are about the same as yours.
His face however, I’d say his cheekbone is fractured, but again without an x-ray...” I rolled my eyes and he continued, “He’s okay, I had to stitch his cut, his nose seems alright, he didn’t lose any teeth. He’s got a slight concussion and will have a lot of bruising and swelling over the next couple of days, when he’s awake I would suggest rotating between a hot compress and a cold one to try and limit the damage to the muscles and flesh, it will hurt but it will be worth it.”

“Thank-you.” I answered to his ramble, brushing past him. “Looks like we’re staying here then.” I said to Gordon, looking around the basement, Blake in the other room, practically a large cupboard.

“At least move upstairs,” Gordon urged, “And I’ll leave someone here for you, move him tomorrow.”

I nodded moving into the smaller room, he looked a little better with the blood cleared but one half of his face was already growing rapidly, red turning to black.

“Blake,” I said softly, touching his bare upper arm, also covered in growing bruises, the rest of him wrapped in a thick blanket, he stirred a little, “We need to move upstairs, Blake?”

“Okay.” He opened his eyes, one only managing half way, “My head still hurts, you broke your promise.” I let him have a sympathetic grin, earning a pained one in reply as Folley came up behind me, “Let’s get you up somewhere warm yeah?”

“Sounds great.”

He swore, still woozy as we got him standing, the doctor assisting in us practically dragging us up, into the rooms we had stayed in beforehand, a good five moves ago.

It was as we left it, so it as fairly safe.

“I’ll set up someone,” He glanced outside, “But we need to get back before it’s too late. Here.” He passed me back the gun, “Seems you’re pretty able with it.”

His words were tinted with something far from pride.

“Yeah.” I said bitterly, “We’ll be fine, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You take care of him Keira.” I smiled, my face tingling.

“Remember the compresses, set water to boil and...”

“There’s a hot water bottle somewhere I remember, we’re good.”

I just wanted them to go, I wanted to look after Blake.
Like he’d been looking after me for months now.

If I’d been more honest, told them Jonathon was looking for me, I wouldn’t be going out, Blake wouldn’t have been there and this wouldn’t have happened.

He could easily have been killed.

And that was by far the most terrifying reality I had had to face.

He winced a few minutes later as I pressed the ice to his safe, “Sorry.” I muttered, “But I have to.”

“Yeah,” He croaked, “There anymore aspirin?” I shrugged, placing his equally damaged hand over the ice to keep it in place.

I searched quickly through a few cupboards, sure I must have left something here, just in case, “Ah, here we are.” I said, gritting my teeth as I twisted too quickly, reminding me I did need to bind my ribs, and there were bandages downstairs.

But before that I had to sort Blake out, so I ran some water and poured it and the tablet into his mouth, having to lift his head.

It was so pitiful, like a baby. He commented on this and I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt again.

“This is my fault, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t, it’s fine. There was always a chance we'd get caught out...” He was growing woozy and tired again, I could tell, his eyes unfocused.

But maybe that was the concussion, but if the doctor deemed him well enough to sleep, I should let him. I sat with him until he did just a few minutes later, breaths slightly rasping and I knew I wouldn’t sleep until he was awake.

I was terrified he would stop breathing if I did and I would lose him.

Strange, how in such a short amount of time he was such a big part of my life.
He was my life.

I risked heading down for the bandages, chewing my lower lip as I ran then around me, as tight as possible before I struggled to find a comfortable position next to him on the bed, watching him primarily, but aware I would have to use the wrapped water bottle soon and that was going to hurt.

I let him have an hour before I woke him, and we spent the next few with him wincing, his cheek going red again, warm, cold. It swelled either way, but presumably less than it would have without.

“I’m sorry,” I kept saying, “I need to, the doctor said.”

“I’m alright, how are you?” His voice was a little thick but he seemed more conscious.

“I’m fine, I’ve been hit before, never quite punched in the face by a man but I’ll survive.”

“That’s good to know,” I lifted a brow, “That Jonathon never hit you, I don’t think I could stand to hate him anymore than I do.”

I kept silent, he had never punched me definitely...but...

I shook my head, smiling at him, pressing my lips against his cut ones and changing to the ice again, his hands clenching.

“I would kill for something stronger right now.”

“There’s whisky in the other room.” I teased, the doctor cleaned your cut with it.

“I’ll give that a miss.”

“I love you.” I said earnestly and randomly a few minutes later.

“I love you too.”

I had hoped we would avoid the inevitable but within seconds it had risen from his mouth,
“So Jonathon is looking for you then?”

“It seems that way.” I answered, not diverging any more details.

“And you knew that right?” I didn’t answer and he glanced over at me, “Of course you did.”

“I’m so sorry, I just didn’t want to get stuck doing nothing and...”

“Being safe?”

“I’ll stay inside.” I promised quickly, “If it’s not safe for you that I’m out there, I’ll stay inside and won’t do anything.”

“Yeah right. You’re a magnet for trouble.”