Shook Hands With the Devil

Chapter 7 - Sweetheart

TW: Blood, hospitals, discussion of injuries

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"What?" Matt gasped after hearing his name leave your lips. How did you know, he thought, panic beginning to set in. If she knows, how many others know as well?

Wait.

It was the pet name he said. Sweetheart. He only used that term with one person, someone who both scared him and excited him. Someone he was madly in love with. Someone he wanted to keep safe.

It was you. You were Umbra.

He spoke your name softly, scared that this was some fucked up dream, a trick his mind was playing on him.

His whole world fell down around him as you nodded.

"Sweetheart," he croaked, his voice cracking from emotion. He didn't even try to stop the tears as they rolled over your hand. He lightly touched the hand on his cheek, reminding himself that you were here. You weren't some figment of his imagination.

"Matt, take off my mask. Please." You felt his hand leave yours and untie the knots holding the bandanna in place. Letting the material fall to the ground, Matt cupped your face with his hands. His thumb brushed over your lips, your nose, and you realized he was mapping your face, trying to conceptualize what you looked like.

One of his hands left, leaving you shivering with the sudden lack of his warmth, and he picked up the fallen bandanna. He held it on the gouge on your stomach, trying to stop some of the bleeding before he got you help.

He needed to get you to a hospital. His limited knowledge of first aid wouldn't be enough to help you.

"Hold on to the cloth. Just, hold on." Matt wrapped one of his hands under your legs, the other around your shoulders, carrying you bridal style.

You cried out, the abrasive movements causing incredible amounts of pain.

"Sweetheart, I need you to stay awake for me. Can you do that? I need your help getting you to a hospital." you felt Matt rumble, and you enjoyed the soothing timbre of his voice.

You gave him a weak verbal confirmation, forcing yourself to keep your eyes open. You focused on Matt's face, tracing your eyes along his jaw and lips. You had forgotten how pretty he was.

"Pretty..." you whispered, extending a shaky hand to touch him.

Matt let out a chuckle, trying to distract you and himself from the situation. He knew he had exited the alleyway, but now he was oblivious to where he was at.

"Alright, as much as I appreciate the compliment, I need you to tell me what street I'm on."

You wiggled around slightly, looking for a sign of some sort. "W 56th Street. You need to get to, uh," you thought for a second, trying to conjure up a mental map, the blood loss making you confused. You had nearly all of Hell's Kitchen memorized; it was a grid pattern, relatively easy to navigate. "Mount Sinai West. It's uh, one left and one right turn. I'll tell you when."

With that you let yourself relax in Matt's arms, not falling asleep, but just getting comfortable. The wound on your stomach had started not hurting, which was either a good or bad thing. You were too tired to care. Your left arm was tender, and you're pretty sure you dislocated a knee.

None of this would've happened if you just waited for Matt.

"I'm sorry," you blurted out, and Matt gave you a quizzical look.

"Not just for this, but for everything," you continued, "and I treated you like shit and-".

Matt cut you off with a hush, simply saying, "We'll talk about this later."

You nodded and nuzzled into Matt's warm chest. You could hear his heartbeat, strong and clear as he held you close.

You could feel yourself growing fainter by the moment, but you pushed on, not wanting to leave Matt to fend for himself.

You look around for a street sign. You guys had arrived at the conjunction at W 56th Street and 10th Avenue.

"Take a left."

A warm feeling settled into your heart at the fact that Matt trusted you instantly. No second-guessing, no patronizing comments. He just turned, simply following your commands. So much has changed in the last couple of weeks. Or days. You couldn't quite remember.

The two of you stayed in a comfortable silence as Matt made his way down the street, carrying you like you were the most precious cargo in the world. The streets were oddly quiet as if the universe knew the solemn moment the two of you were in. His arms hurt like hell, but no force could stop him from bringing you safely to the hospital.

"Take a right."

As he turned he began to hear the noises of the hospital: the sound of the ambulance engines firing up, the beeping of machines, doctors barking orders at scared interns.

"Matt, I'm gonna go to sleep now," you mumbled, too weak to fight the sleep nagging at your mind. Instantly he felt you go slack in his arms, and true fear coursed through his body.

No-one stopped him as he ran through the front doors. He shouted for a doctor, a nurse, hell he would even take one of those scared interns. He just needed someone to help you.

Within moments he felt you being lifted out of his arms, and his sense of touch began to return to his fingers.

He heard the sound of a gurney being rolled, and the light thud of them placing you on it. He found himself by your head, and he pressed a quick kiss on your forehead.

"I'll be back sweetheart, I promise," he murmured into your skin, and he allowed the doctors to wheel you away.

Your heartbeat grows lighter and lighter as you get wheeled away from him.

And lighter.

So light that he has to concentrate to hear it, but it was there.

Thump, thump, thump.

You are alive, he thought. She needs you as Matt now.

With that, he turned out the hospital doors, and he felt his heart being ripped out of his chest. He was leaving you. And it killed him.