Let it go

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Killian returned later that night, two plane tickets in hand just as promised. He was expecting her to be asleep, but not on the floor and with blood surrounding her hand.
At first he thought it might be suicide, but he knew she would never do such a thing.

He sat besides her curled up form with his legs outstretched, shifting her body so she was on his lap and cradled in his arms. Like a tired-out child after a long day at the beach being rocked by her mother. He scooped up her wrist and examined the cut that was pretty deep and would probably need medical attention soon, it looked more like stab than a cut.
He looked around her bedroom and found the cause of the injury - pieces of a shattered glass on the floor. Immediatly he knew what had happened, Emma always broke things when she was upset.

His gaze traveled back to her, head now tucked against his shoulder.
He had always seen her as a tough person, but now, with her tear stained cheeks and blood seeping from her hand, she looked nothing but fragile and broken.

He knew what she was going through, he knew that losing a family member made you feel bleak and hopeless. It carved a hole in your heart that faded only over long periods of time.
But he found comfort in the fact that she was asleep and nothing bothered her. She was at rest.

Her lashes fluttered and her eyes opened very slowly, the fingers of her good hand weakly clutching his shirt, "The tickets?" Her voice was barely audible, a soft whisper.

"I got them, but I need to bandage up your hand." He snaked an arm under her knees and back before standing, taking her up with him and moving sit her on the bed.

"When does the flight leave?"

"The day after tomorrow at five AM, it's the soonest I could get."

She nodded and squeezed her hand, checking to see if no major damage was made, "Thanks. I have a first aid kit over there." She pointed to her nightstand.

He took the little white plastic box and got out some gauze and an alcohol pad before putting it back and kneeling in front of her.

He cleaned off the dried blood with the pad, and she bit her lip hard at the sting it caused.
They both stayed quiet while he wrapped up the cut, both watching his digits move the cloth around.

He bent his head down and ripped of the remaining gauze with his teeth, his breath ghosting over her skin for a second, "Done."

She looked out the window that showed the sun shining through the New York buildings, and tears gathered in her eyes, "I didn't even get to see him one last time..."

He looked at her and stayed quiet. Minutes passed and not a sound was made. He figured saying something wouldn't make her feel better, because honestly nothing could. So he just let her think in silence.

After a while, she wiped off her cheeks and got up, "I'll be in the shower."

He stood and nodded, "Alright, I'll go make some Mac & Cheese."

Ten minutes later she joined him in the kitchen, all set to go to bed in her plad pajamas, even though it was barely 4.

He served two bowls of M&C and they both sat down on the couch, eating and watching 50 First Dates in silence.

After the brief lunch he washed the used utensils, put them away and sat back down on the couch to watch the last thirty or so minutes of the film.

"Killian," She spoke up, turning her head to face him, "when your parents died, how did you deal with that?"

"I didn't." He answered, now too looking at her, "The pain just kind of faded over time. After a couple of months, I just realized that crying and being sad wouldn't bring them back. So I let them go."

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