Archive of Our Own ^beta

As the car sped throughout the mostly abandoned countryside, the silence of the night being broken by the sounds of the engine backfiring, it became very clear that the night would no longer be peaceful for anyone. 

“Drive faster!” Emma shouted at Bill, whose knuckles were pale as he gripped the steering wheel.

Bill said nothing in response, the sound of Paul’s stifled cries and pained noises being enough to motivate him to drive faster. 

Paul’s eyes were squeezed shut, a rag in his mouth as he bit down on it to stifle the screams of pain he was losing a battle with. The scent of blood was overwhelming as the trio tried to make its way to the nearest safehouse. Emma just held onto Paul as tight as she could, pressing a thick cloth, which was already soaked in blood, to the wound on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, baby,” she whispered, her voice shaky as she ran her free hand through his hair, “We’re almost there...we’re almost there.”

He made a small noise, and Emma tried not to wince at the feeling of more of his blood squeezing between her fingertips as she desperately applied pressure to his wound. 

This time, it had been too close.   

They’d managed to venture into Hatchetfield again, planning on robbing the second street bank in a thoroughly planned job, since Bill’s daughter was in the process of adopting a baby, and their usual stores of cash were running out with as much as they were using to help support everyone (especially since Ted’s ‘fee’ had gone up since they’d allowed him to join them). The plan was simple...go in, make threats, break into the safes, threaten tellers again, have Tom, Ted,  and Becky distract the police while Bill, Paul, and Emma got the money and got out.

But something had gone wrong. 

Originally, they’d done their usual song-and-dance bit where the mere sight of the most dangerous couple in the midwest had everybody shaking and not even daring to put up a fight, making Paul and Emma’s usual job easier. They’d emptied as much of the main safe as they could, taking care to rob the Monroe and Pricely accounts with joy, planning to get out in less than twenty minutes and making a break for it with the money. 

It had all been going to plan...until it wasn’t.

As it turned out...one of the standard beat cops they were always sure to avoid, mainly because he was a nuisance and had beaten the shit out of Paul when he was taken into custody a few years back, was not where he was supposed to be on his beat. Rather, he’d been making out with a former waitress from Beanies before Emma had left behind the bank when the robbery had begun. And so...when Sam Wentworth noticed the notorious Emma and Paul making their way out of the bank hastily, he didn’t hesitate to draw his gun and try to shoot at Emma. She’d not even noticed that the man’s gun had been drawn in a lapse of her skill and ease when it came to these things, but Paul had noticed, and in a true Paul Perkins fashion, he’d rather die than see anyone harm his wife. 

It was because of this, that Paul now had a bullet in his shoulder, and they were running from the cops with everything they had.

Emma would have been hit had Paul not quickly shoved her into the backseat of their car, Bill all set to be their getaway driver. Emma was already making moves to pull Paul into the car, when the gunshot, like deafening thunder echoed throughout what normally would have been a quiet street. Paul had fallen...half of his body already in the car before Emma used every ounce of her strength to pull him in, her mind and adrenaline kicking in once her eyes landed on the sight of her husband bleeding. She’d screamed at Bill to drive as she pulled Paul into her arms, and once Bill realized what had happened, he drove like hell, getting them out of there and outrunning the cops in record time.

Of course, the job had been successful and they made it out of there with all the money they’d grabbed, but all of that was rendered null and void by the fact that Emma was covered in Paul’s blood as she struggled to stop the bleeding, her husband trying so hard to conceal all of the pain he was in. 

“Almost there, Paul,” she repeated through the shakiness of her voice, “We’re almost there...just a little longer, sweetheart.”

He was exhausted and in pain, his eyes filled with tears he was trying to blink away as he thrashed against the pain. 

She hated seeing him in pain.

She hated watching him suffer. 

Sure, she loved and enjoyed every single job she pulled with him. 

Every robbery and hostage-taking they pulled was an adventure to her, and her life was never dull because of it. 

But none of that would have been worth it if Paul was taken from her.

“You stupid bastard,” she whispered as she cupped his face, “Why did you do that? Why would you pull something like that?”

She could have taken the bullet and repaired herself. Unlike him, she didn’t bleed. Her muscles were made out of metal. She had artificial skin which could get torn, as well as a layer of something gelatinous and soft to mimic the texture and softness of being human, but everything else physical about her was mostly machinery. She could have repaired any bullet wound she received, leaving only a scar on her skin from where she’d put herself back together, but it wouldn’t have killed her. It wouldn’t have made her bleed or endangered the life she was leading.

But now the person who meant more to her than the whole world was bleeding out in her arms and she couldn’t do anything until they had the supplies needed to fix it.

Suddenly she and Paul lurched to the side as Bill took a tight turn, making Paul cry out as Emma slammed into him from the forces. 

“Bill!” she shouted, hating the way her voice was broken with worry.

“I’m sorry!” Bill yelled back, “We’re almost there, then we can get him help.”
She sighed and pressed her hands back down on Paul’s bleeding wound, his whole torso across her lap as she tried to comfort him and stop the bleeding. 

“It’s okay, Paul,” she soothed, “We’re almost there, baby...we’re gonna be okay. Just stay awake for me, okay?”

He made a small noise and his eyes fluttered, the blood loss clearly taking its toll on him. 

“Don’t let him fall asleep!” Bill shouted as he took another tight turn, more gentle this time, and allowing Emma some time to compensate before she caused Paul more pain, “We’re almost there!”

“Stay awake, Paul,” Emma murmured, using her free hand to cup his face and make him look at her, “Just stay with me, baby, we’re almost there.”

“Em…” he mumbled, his voice broken with the pain he was trying to stifle, almost completely muffled by the rag he’d been biting down on with a vice-like grip. 

“It’s okay, Paul,” she soothed calmly, trying to keep herself calm and ignore her own ragged breaths, “It’s okay, we’re almost-”

“We’re here!” Bill shouted, cutting her off as he slammed on the brakes. 

In the dim light cast by the headlights, Emma could make out the rotting siding of one of their favorite safehouses in the middle of nowhere. They called it Haven House since it was one of the few houses that had enough bedrooms to accommodate them as well as allowing Bill not to have to room with Ted. Like many of the houses they used, it was two stories and was out in the middle of a vast expanse of fields, but unlike a great deal of them, the house was mostly concealed by a small grove of trees in the middle of it. 

Moving quickly, Bill jumped out of the car and tugged the door open, helping Emma move the moaning Paul out of the car. 

“Get the door!” she ordered him as she quickly propped Paul’s weight up using her advanced strength, her husband leaning limply against her.

Quickly, Bill complied and grabbed some of the lanterns and candles from where they’d put them on the kitchen table the last time they’d been there as Emma quickly worked to help Paul up the stairs into their room. 

“Light some of those and bring them up to our room,” she instructed Bill as she carefully climbed the stairs, “Then get me what medical supplies we have and whatever gin we’ve got.”

At Bill’s nod, Emma continued to half-drag her husband up the stairs, using her special vision to see in the completely-dark house. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” she mumbled, more to convince herself of the fact rather than Paul, who looked like he was slipping in and out of consciousness, “We’re gonna be okay.”

She kicked open the door to their room just as Bill ran up the stairs with a lantern and a bundle of bandages and what medical supplies Becky had stashed there in the months before. 

“I need that chair,” she told Bill as she tried to sit Paul down on the bed, “The one by the vanity.”

Bill nodded and grabbed the chair, his eyes wide as they darted to Paul, “Shouldn’t we wait for Becky or Hidgens to get here?”

“We don’t have that kind of time!” Emma practically screamed as she helped Paul up from the bed and leaned him against the chair so that his torso was hugging the back of it, the rag still in his mouth as more pained noises that broke Emma’s heart left him, “He’s been bleeding for over an hour, if we wait any longer, he’ll bleed out!”

To be honest, given Emma’s rudimentary at best medical knowledge, she didn’t know what Paul’s chances were. Of course, given the fact that he, like her was an engineered human being, he probably had a better chance at survival than normal people, but that didn’t change the fact that he could feel pain and bleed...and unlike her, he could die permanently from something like this. 

She couldn’t let him die. 

She wouldn’t let him die.

“Where’s the gin?” she asked Bill, “I need something to clean his wound with.”

“I’ll get it,” Bill nodded, his eyes filled with concern as Paul let another cry of pain loose.

“Hurry,” she yelled as he ran down the stairs, his heavy footing echoing throughout the house.

She panted raggedly and opened up the bundle of Becky’s medical supplies, sighing in relief as she saw several bandages, needles and thread, and even a small bottle of gin. She turned her attention to Paul, his white shirt stained through with blood as his shoulder continued to protest. 

She put a hand on his other shoulder and whispered to him.

“Okay, baby,” she murmured, trying to keep the panic out of her voice, “I’m gonna cut your shirt off, okay?” 

She didn’t wait for a response as she reached for the knife she kept in her garter, one of the craftiest places she kept one and hadn’t used yet today, removing it and wiping it off on one of the towels Bill had brought up. 

She pressed one of her hands down on the wound and used another to expertly cut through the back of his shirt, as well as his sleeves without knicking or cutting him. Thankfully it was time for him to get new shirts anyway. They could probably get a few with the money they’d earned. 

He whimpered softly as she used both hands to gently peel away at the bloody material, revealing the ugly wound left behind. 

“I know, I know...shh,” she soothed, pressing a kiss to his hair as she peeled it away, “I know it hurts...I know...”

She felt like crying at the sight of him in as much pain as he was in. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t cry when she could still do something. 

She searched her mental database for everything she’d seen Becky do when it came to treating wounds like this. Of course, most people in their group were clipped with bullets then they were actually shot, but for the most part, Becky or Hidgens was always there to fix it or help them treat it. But neither Becky nor Hidgens were there, and she needed to get this done. As she inspected the wound, she found that there were two wounds, an entrance and an exit wound on either side of his body. Given what she knew about basic human anatomy, she could tell that Paul had been lucky, and from what she could see, the bullet hadn’t knicked any vital blood vessels, so she didn’t have to remove a bullet or fix anything that was damaged. All that was left was cleaning it and sealing it.

“Bill get up here!” she shouted.

As Bill ran back into the room, carrying a large bottle of gin, his eyes wide, Emma looked at him, “I need you to apply pressure to the exit wound while I clean and seal up the first one.”

At Bill’s hesitancy, Emma rolled her eyes, “This is not the time to be squeamish about blood, Woodward! This is Paul’s life!”

Bill didn’t even need to respond to know that if he didn’t get his ass in gear it was likely that Emma would kill him. So he quickly moved to place his shaky hands over the front of Paul’s wound, Paul writhing in pain at the contact.

“Keep him still,” Emma instructed as she opened the bottle of gin with her teeth before spitting the cork aside and gently kissing Paul’s head again, “This is gonna hurt, sweetheart, but I need you to hold still for me, okay?”

Paul managed a small, sloppy nod as he worked hard to grit his teeth. Even though his eyes were exhausted, Emma could see the pain and fear in his eyes as he struggled against Bill’s grip, Bill’s hands already covered in blood. 

With a deep sigh, Emma started to pour the alcohol over Paul’s wound, watching as some of the blood trickled away with the crudely-made fluid. Almost instantly, Paul screamed out, sounding gargled against the cloth in his mouth. Emma felt tears come to her eyes at the sound, her artificial heart pounding and aching at the sound. 

“I know, I know…” she murmured, pouring more on the wound, “But this one’s almost done with the cleaning, baby, okay?”

She grabbed a clean towel from the bed and started wiping away at the drying and fresh blood on his shoulder, revealing a raw and angry wound that hadn’t been bleeding as much as it had been earlier. 

She quickly grabbed the needle and thread, cringing at the thought of stitching his own skin up. Sure, she’d repaired her own artificial skin before, but his was different. His was soft and warm and didn’t deserve to be broken by the anger of a bullet. God, if she ever got her hands on Sam Wentworth, she’d kill him for this. 

Her memory went back to Becky and all of the times she’d cleaned and stitched wounds for them and quickly, gritting her teeth as she did, she went to work. 

She could tell from the way her husband tensed under her hands that he was trying so hard to hide his pain from her, trying to make this as easy as possible for her, but she could see the tears dripping down his face as she worked, trying so desperately to stitch the wound up as best she could. God, she hoped she was doing this correctly. Using the same knife she’d used to cut him free of his shirt, she cut off the last stitch in his wound, praying that somehow she hadn’t managed to make it worse. 

“Okay, baby,” she murmured, running a hand gently up and down Paul’s back to let him know that she was there, “I need to clean it again, and then one’s done, okay? You just need to hang on a little longer.”

Paul winced and let out a small nod, allowing her to know that he was staying with her, making Emma sigh. His eyes were so puffy and filled with agony, she didn’t want to think about how much pain he was in as she fought against tears of her own. 

She grabbed the gin with her bloody hands and another clean towel, before dousing it in alcohol and quickly pressing it to the wound. Paul’s cry of pain was muffled as he lurched forward, Bill and Emma’s combined efforts holding him still. 

As Emma cleaned away the remaining blood, she quickly grabbed a few temporary bandages and placed them over the wound, planning to wrap and secure it better once they finished cleaning and sealing the other wound and had them all packed properly. 

Quickly, Emma and Bill turned Paul around in the chair, Paul somehow remaining awake despite the pain and exhaustion dragging him down. They managed to repeat the process, despite the exit wound being much larger than the entrance wound, Emma knew that there had to be some broken bone judging from where he’d been shot, so she made a mental note to wrap the wounds with that in mind as she stitched it up and cleaned it, also planning on bringing up her suspicion to Becky when she arrived there tomorrow. Paul was much more quiet and still as she cleaned the second wound, and she wondered if it was from the fact that he was now a little more used to the pain, or the exhaustion. Either idea sickened her and only motivated her to work faster. 

Finally, the other wound was cleaned and stitched and she could move on to wrapping his whole arm. 

As she removed the larger and longer bandages from the pile, she nodded to Bill, offering him a tired smile, “Thank you, Bill...I can take it from here.”

Bill raised a concerned eyebrow, “You sure...I’m willing to help wherever I can.”

“I’m sure,” Emma nodded, “Go get some sleep so we can plan our next move in the mornings, okay?”

Bill looked hesitant as he looked over at Paul, “I just want to be sure-”

“It’s fine, Bill,” Emma offered him as comforting of a smile as she could manage as she unrolled the bandages, Paul leaning limply against the back of the chair, “I’ve got this, I promise. I’ll yell for you if we need you.”

For a moment, the older man still seemed hesitant, before finally sighing and wiping at his bloodstained hands with a wet towel, “But...if you ever need anything- anything at all- promise me you’ll-”

“I’ll holler for you,” Emma nodded.

Bill nodded, “Okay then…” his eyes traced down over Paul’s exhausted form before offering Emma a small smile, “Goodnight, Emma.”

“Night, Bill,” Emma nodded, watching as the man turned and started out the door, “Oh, and Bill?”

The man whirled around eagerly, almost as if hoping he wouldn’t feel useless during this time.

Emma studied the man, his shirt and arms still stained with Paul’s blood as he’d done everything he could to help her save him. Despite the lateness of the hour and the difficulty the three of them had, Bill had been steadfast through it all. There was a reason he was their most trusted member of their group. A reason why everyone loved him and would do anything for Bill Woodward. The man was the embodiment of loyalty, and everything he’d done this night had proved that.

“Thank you,” she decided on, looking at Paul for a moment before looking back at him, “For all of your help...If we hadn’t gotten him here in time, I don’t-”

“You’re welcome, Emma,” Bill smiled comfortingly, “And don’t worry about him...he’s strong. He wouldn’t let something like this get to him.”

And yet, there they were, his blood soaking into the throw blanket on the edge of the bed, dripped all over the floor. His bloodied shirt was still in a bucket off to the side, along with all of the other waste they’d have to get rid of. 

Bill smiled and grabbed the bucket of the bloodied items, “I’ll get rid of this for you, and clean up what blood droplets got on the stairs...You just worry about taking care of him and yourself, Emma, okay?”

She nodded, “Thanks Bill.”

“No problem,” the man smiled warmly, “Make sure you both get some rest.”

With that, Bill closed the door, leaving Emma with her no longer bleeding husband, who was half-asleep at this point. 

“You idiot,” Emma murmured as she gently began to wrap his arm, securing bandages around the wounds in the way she’d seen Becky do it, “You wonderful idiot.”

Part of her was furious that he’d been so stupid to take a bullet for her. She never wanted to see him bleed again, and another part of her wanted to have the blood of the one responsible. God, if she ever saw Sam again it was on sight. She didn’t care if she murdered the man in front of the wife he was stepping out on, she would make him pay for this. 

As she finished wrapping his wounds, she tore up an old shirt of his that they’d left behind one of their previous times visiting Haven House and made a sling, before helping him into bed. He was groggy, not responding to much as his eyes struggled to stay awake. She really wished they had some form of opioid that would take away his pain, but she knew that it was better for him to sleep. Because he was so tired, he’d said nothing since before Bill left, acting more as a puppet than he was a person, laying where she guided him on the bed, his eyes falling shut when he finally lay back, the exhaustion finally getting to claim him after a long night. 

She gently pushed some of his hair, which had become somewhat dry with the sweat from earlier in the night and she hoped with everything she had that his wounds wouldn’t become infected. His biology was still closer to a human’s than hers, so she couldn’t bear for that problem to emerge just after they’d gotten him patched up.

She removed the soiled bloodied blanket, dropping it in a large bucket to be washed or burned later before retrieving a light blue quilt from the closet. She gently spread it over the bed and watched as Paul seemingly snuggled deeper into its warmth. 

Despite her inability to feel human fatigue, she felt absolutely spent as she watched her husband sleep. 

She didn’t want to get into bed next to him, however, not wanting to accidentally cause his arm more pain with her presence, so she grabbed a throw blanket and settled into the comfy armchair beside the bed, blowing out all but one of the candles in the room, keeping a small vigil over Paul as he slept. Before she settled in, however, she leaned over and pressed a kiss to his forehead, allowing some of the silent tears to fall.

To lose him would have been her worst nightmare come true.

She couldn’t face a life without him in it. 

As she watched his chest rise and fall, she found herself crying with relief that they’d saved them, and instead found herself unable to fall asleep, the fear of something coming and stealing his life away in the night keeping her awake and alert.

She’d protect him through the night.

She’d protect him always. 

Forever and Always.

That was the deal.

And he’d almost broken it with that choice. 

That stupid ass choice that he’d made in taking a bullet for her.

Tears dripped down her cheeks as she looked at the thick bandages covering his shoulder and arms. 

He’d been hurt so she wouldn’t be. 

He’d made the choice to throw himself into the line of fire to keep her safe.

So, in turn, she’d keep him safe.

---

Paul groaned as he opened his eyes to a painful throb in his arm, sunlight passing in lovely beams through the windows.  

As he suddenly found himself reacquainted with the pain, all of the memories from the night before came flooding back to him. 

They’d been robbing the second street bank, hadn’t they?

Then Sam had been there and…

Anger filled his heart at the memory of the fiend who’d tried to shoot his wife. His gun was aimed for her as she was getting into the car and Paul had seen it. It was almost as if something had possessed him when he’d practically thrown Emma into the car and taken her place, getting just in time to be hit with the bullet himself.

Then there’d been nothing but agony.

He didn’t care how much pain it caused him. As long as Emma was safe, he didn’t care how many bullets he’d taken.

He’d take a million more for Emma Matthews.

He grit his teeth as the pain made him feel all the more awake, coming back to him in sore, throbbing waves. 

They’d made it to the safe house, right? He remembered Bill and Emma pulling him from the car and helping him up the stairs. Then he’d felt a great deal of pain...and then all went foggy.

Where was Emma?

His heart suddenly pounded in his chest when he realized the sheets and space on the mattress was cool beside him. He forced his eyes open and without moving too much, he searched for her before finding her in the armchair beside him, her eyes open and her makeup smudged. 

His heart ached as he recognized the look in her eyes. Something that was quiet and exhausted, meaning she’d likely been awake for the majority of the night.

“Em…?” he murmured, cringing at how raspy his voice sounded.

Her eyes widened when they fell on him.

“You’re awake,” her voice sounded quiet and raw as she spoke, almost as if she’d been crying for the majority of the night, making his heart ache even more.

“Emma…” he whispered, trying to will himself to sit up, “Wh-What happened?”

She jumped up from the chair, the quilt that had been covering her falling to the floor as she helped him sit up, leaning back against the ornate headboard of their bed, “Easy...you’ve had a rough night, Paul.”

She was studying him with close eyes as she carefully sat on the bed next to him, her eyes puffy and raw, making his heart sink.

“How long have you been up?” he asked her.

She didn’t respond to his question, instead standing up and grabbing a bundle of what looked like bandages from the vanity, “You bled through your bandages, we need to clean and change those.”

“Em…” he whispered, picking up on her annoyance, “Emma, baby, what’s wrong?”

Emma paused for a moment, her eyes widening. 

She laughed bitterly, “What’s wrong? What’s wrong ?” 

There was a moment of silence where they just sat there, blinking at one another before tears filled her eyes. 

“Emma…” he whispered as she let out a hoarse sob. 

“What’s wrong , Paul,” she whispered through her tears, “Is that you could have fucking died last night! Do you know how fucking scared I was?”

She didn’t let him respond as she went on with her rave, wiping tears from her eyes as she fiddled with a bandage in her hands as her breathing grew ragged.

“You took a bullet for me, Paul,” she shook her head, “Do you know how fucking stupid that is? If that bullet had hit me, I would have been fine-”

“Emma-” he whispered, but she held up a finger to cut him off as more tears poured down her face.

“But no,” she went on, “Y-You had to be so goddamned stupid to get hit yourself and you nearly died! Bill and I didn’t know what to do and Becky isn’t even here yet! We could have lost you Paul! D-Do you know how much that scares me?!? I co-couldn’t…” 

She bit on her lower lip as more tears rolled down her cheeks, making his heart ache as she looked down with a defeated sigh. 

“Just…” she murmured, “I don’t bleed. You do. Something like that won’t kill me...but it would have killed you…”

She sniffed and wiped at her nose, “Just...promise me you won’t ever do anything like that again...please…”

“Emma…” he whispered as she took one of his hands in her own, lifting it to her face to press soft kisses against his knuckles.

“I couldn’t live with it,” she murmured, “All of this...the life we’ve built...none of it would be worth it without you...If I had lost you…”

“But you didn’t-” he tried to reason, but she kept going.

“But I could have!” she cried, “Just...please, Paul...promise me you won’t do a stupid thing like that again…”

She broke down, soft sobs leaving her as she buried her face in her hands, even prompting tears to rest at the corners of his own eyes. 

He’d never meant to scare her, or to have her stay up like this and exhaust herself. He’d never meant to worry Bill or make her cry...but still he knew he couldn’t agree with what she asked of him.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, “You know I can’t agree to that.”

“Yes you can!” she sobbed, looking up at him with furious eyes, “Unless someone’s a helluva good shot, it won’t kill me! Bullets can kill you, Paul, and I won’t-”

“Emma,” he said firmly and calmly, “Emma...No I can’t.”

“Why?” she demanded, her eyes filled with tears, “Please, can you just do this one thing for me? Let me take the bullets-”

“I won’t,” he repeated firmly, cutting her off, “You know why?”

“No,” she snapped, tears still dripping down her face, “I don’t.”

She looked away from him, tears pouring down her face as her small body shook with heaving sobs. His heart broke every time he’d seen her cry. He couldn’t bear the fact that he’d made her sad, but he needed her to know that this was his choice. And it was one that he would make again and again if he had to.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, lifting his good arm to cup her cheek, “Look at me, please…”

Tentatively and reluctantly she turned to look at him, her gorgeous brown eyes filled with tears as she looked at him. His wife. His lovely, wonderful, perfect wife. The woman who made him feel more alive than anything else in the world. 

“I made a promise, Em,” he began, “I promised you, when we got married, that I would keep you from harm...and I intend to make good on that promise.”

He smiled softly, in spite of the throbbing of his arm, at the memory of their quiet, peaceful wedding. 

“Well…” Emma began, her voice raw and broken up by heaving breaths, “I promised you the same-”

“I know, Em,” he sighed, cupping her cheek with his good arm and pulling her gently closer so he could rest his forehead against hers, “But it was my choice in that moment, and it’s a choice I’d make again and again if I had to.”

“It’s not-” she began.

“It is,” he nodded, “I’d take a million bullets for you, Emma...it doesn’t matter if you’re bulletproof or not...this…?”

He gestured to his bandaged arm, the slight flecks of crimson through the material indicating that it was indeed time for a bandage change.

“This is nothing compared to the thought of something harming you,” he murmured softly. 

It was true. Paul Perkins was not the bravest man alive. Sure, he was a gutsy criminal and a helluva good sharpshooter, but the mere thought of someone hurting his wife was enough to bring him to his knees. He’d give anything to protect her, and she knew it too. He knew she’d do the same for him...but this...this was something he intended to keep.

Emma sighed and looked down, wiping at her tears, “I wish you didn’t have to…”

“I know,” he murmured, kissing her forehead gently, “And despite my own objections, I know you’d do the same for me...I guess we’re just that crazy about one another.”

Emma chuckled slightly and looked up at him, a tear rolling down her cheek, “I just...the thought of losing you, Paul...I couldn’t...I didn’t…”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, wrapping his good arm around her to pull her closer, despite the protests of his body, “I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

“I know,” she mumbled, “I guess we’ll just have to be more careful from here on out, huh?”

“Sounds like a plan,” he smiled, leaning back against the headboard and wincing as his back made contact with the wood. 

Emma sighed and wiped at her tears, “I’m sorry for freaking out...I just...I was so scared, Paul…”

“Em, sweetheart, you have nothing to be sorry about,” he assured her, “And I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

She nodded and looked down at the bandages and a small bottle of gin in front of her, unwrapping them as she prepared to help him change his bandages. He merely smiled at his beautiful wife. When she was around all of the pain went away. It didn’t matter than an asshole cop had sent a bullet through his shoulder. For any moment he could have with his wife, he’d do anything and everything. 

He sat back up, wincing at the pain and gritting his teeth to hold back a few groans as he did. Emma’s eyes widened.

“What the hell are you doing?” she scolded him, “Lay back until I’m ready.”

“Sorry,” he managed a small, drowsy smile, “I just wanted to tell my beautiful wife that I love her.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him, “You trying to butter me up, Perkins?”

He chuckled lightly, “You better believe it, Matthews.”

He winced again and followed her suggestion of leaning back, but not before she suddenly lurched forward and caught his face gently in her hands, her fingers gently tangling in his hair, her face leaning forward before she engulfed him in a sweet gentle kiss, which instantly made him go a shade of beet red. 

When she broke away, she leaned her forehead against his, smiling at him as their noses brushed against one another. 

“I love you so much, Mr. Perkins,” she whispered.

He smiled, forgetting all of the pain he was in at that moment.

“And I love you immeasurably, Mrs. Matthews,” he murmured with a smile no pain could erase, “Forever and always.”

She met his lips again with a small giggle, kissing him gently, careful not to jostle him or hurt his shoulder (though, he wouldn’t care if she did- not when the most beautiful woman in the world was kissing him). 

She sighed and leaned her forehead against his, her eyes closed as the two of them just savored the moment. The realization of everything they’d survived and walked through together, everything that would come to pass in their lives, and the love they had for one another seeming to envelop them like a blanket.

She chuckled lightly under her breath as she opened her eyes to meet his. 

Beautiful shades of dark brown against his own blue.

A look of recognition and love between the most infamous pair in the midwest.

A married pair who were as much in love with one another as they were dangerous.

A couple who’d give anything to protect each other.

Two souls.

Forever bound.

Forever in love.

“Forever and always.”