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It proved to be a good distraction. I didn't become one of those hysterical, weepy females in front of the police and EMTs. They'll go back to the station and say 'Wow, we wish all our victims of criminal violence were as cool as she was.'"
He slid his arm around her. "You remember the day I said I don't really think about life having worst moments?"
"Yes, I remember."
He put his forehead against her temple. "When I heard you scream, I think that may qualify as one of my worst moments, not knowing if I could be strong, brave or smart enough to help you."
She lifted her head and put both hands on his face. She'd thought his hypoglycemia was a direct result of the physical stress of holding the man in that stranglehold. While that had been part of it, she realized the main cause had been far more internal. Like her, he'd likely never been in a situation like that in his whole life. He'd come to her defense with no weapon to hand except what he knew how to do with rope. He hadn't known if it would be enough, or if he'd be overwhelmed and become a second victim. Seeing all that, understanding he'd been perhaps as scared as she was, for different reasons, made her put her arms around him now and hold on, giving as much comfort as she received.
"You were everything I needed you to be, Des," she said. "And even if you hadn't been able to overwhelm him, the very fact you risked your life to try and help me meant everything."
"Though our shared final thought would have been, 'Why didn't I--or he--dial 911 before rushing in to help? Dumbass.'"
She held him tighter. "You're such a goof. But that's a very good point. Next time I'm the victim of a crime, please remember to do that."
"I have it permanently branded on my brain."
She laid her head on his shoulder and together they let out an unplanned synchronized sigh, which made Des chuckle.
"You're no victim," he said, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. "I heard that part where you said you hit him with that rolling pin thing. Remind me not to piss you off when you have that close to hand."
"It's a belaying pin. And you need to teach me that hogtie thing."
He snorted. "I'm not sure if that's safe. I might piss you off someday."
"You already have, and do, regularly. It doesn't matter. I still love you."
"Same goes. Speaking of which, why was the fucking side door unlocked if you were in there by yourself?"
She shook her head. "Because I was stupid. Because I was hoping you'd come to see me and say you were sorry, and I imagined this romantic thing where I'd look up and suddenly see you standing there, and you'd say something perfect. If you had to call me ahead of time and ask me to open the door, it would have ruined the scene."
"Hmm." He blew a short puff of air on her brow, stirring the tendrils of hair there. "For my future sanity, let's agree that you won't ever again compromise your safety to preserve the integrity of your internal theater productions."
"Deal."
"Good." He grunted. "As soon as I have you tied up again, I'm going to beat you. Just to make myself feel better."
"Okay. Can we stop talking about it right now, though?"
"Okay." He squeezed her. It still wasn't his normal strength, but it was getting closer. He felt solid, and he wasn't quivering any more. She curled her fingers around his hand, thinking about how he'd said he touched her hands so often when she was tied up to make sure they weren't cold, among other reasons. His had been too cold, but now they were feeling more like his normal temperature.
"Are you all right?" she asked, hoping he wouldn't get mad.
"Yeah. You took care of me just the way I needed, love." He sighed. "I guess you proved your point, about my girlfriend needing to know more about my health than the average person."
"I had to go to extraordinary lengths to say I told you so. Hope you appreciate me arranging for that sexual predator to break into the theater." Her voice broke a little as it hit her once again, what could have happened if Des hadn't come. Rape. She would have been raped. Possibly worse.
"Sshh, hey. It's done. You're good."
"So does the passing out thing happen that often?" At his curious look, she gave him a crooked smile. "Figure I'd take advantage of my vulnerable position to find out more about this stuff, when you can't get mad about it."
He closed both arms around her this time, holding her firmly against him. "You are a silly, amazing girl. And a pain in my ass. No, it doesn't happen that often. A situation like that, or a day when things just don't work right, sometimes it can bring on an attack too fast and I need someone to inject me. But it's rare. I know my body pretty well."
"Don't be selfish. I'd like the chance to get to know it pretty well myself. I didn't like your note," she added on a more serious note. "'It was bound to happen sometime.'"
He met her gaze. "We're all going to die, love. I don't know anyone who's gotten out of this life alive."
She'd never met someone so matter-of-fact about dying. On one hand, it gave her a sense of what living with that knowledge had been like for him. But she was going with her gut and, even if it twisted in knots at his words, at all the emotions they could be concealing, she let it guide her.
