“Killian–” Fat tears roll down her cheeks and he aches to wipe them away. He doesn’t deserve them. He doesn’t deserve her. It had been a mistake to go after the Hydra on his own, and yet, foolishly, he’d gone anyway. Stupid.
He’d reach for her if it weren’t for the damned sling cradling his once good arm tight to his body and the deep throb from his protesting ribs. He’d broken six in the fall, apparently.
“I’m fine, Love,” The smile he offers falls into a grimace as the thin hospital mattress shifts under his weight, sending pain shooting up his spine. It does nothing to convince her of his lie. Emma has always been able to read him, even after he’d convinced himself that no one would ever try. “I’m a survivor.”
“Don’t start with that shit, Killian. Not now.” She’s furious, eyes wet and face stained and he loves her a little bit more than he ever thought he could. Despite everything, she’s here. He’s here. They’re here. And that’s enough. Her hands shake as they hover over his injured chest. The ethereal glow of her magic sputters before slowly hazing into existence.