"Yeah."
She's being polite, nothing more. That wall she asked for is firmly in place, and I can feel the distance she's trying to maintain. After last night, I deserve it. But I need to find a way back to her, need to get her talking to me again.
"I'll be right back."
I move quickly through the apartment, grabbing the softest blanket I can find from the bedroom closet. When I return, Fee watches me approach with curious eyes.
"The room gets cold," I explain, unfolding the soft throw. "Thought you might be more comfortable."
I drape it carefully around her shoulders, my fingers brushing against her skin as I tuck the edges. She looks exquisite wrapped in the soft fabric, delicate and beautiful.
"There." I smooth the blanket across her lap, letting my hands linger a moment longer than necessary. "Can't take proper care of you if you're not comfortable."
The corner of her mouth curves slightly, not quite a smile yet, but close. Progress.
"Thank you."
I move to the medical cabinet, gathering what I need: antiseptic, fresh gauze, medical tape, and local anesthetic if the cut is worse than I thought.
She watches my every movement, and I keep them deliberate, visible, so she knows exactly what I'm doing. Building trust one careful action at a time.
I pull on medical gloves and return to the foot of the bed. "I'm going to remove this bandage and see how deep the cut actually is." I reach for the edge of the bloodied gauze. "Tell me if anything hurts too much."
I start unwrapping slowly, carefully. Her foot is delicate in my hands, pale skin marred by dried blood and dirt.
"Talk to me," I say, needing to keep her distracted from what I'm doing. I need to hear her voice, to coax her back out from behind that wall. "Tell me about your bracelet."
"Grandmother Quinn was the most superstitious woman in Chicago." Her voice wavers slightly as I peel away the last layer of gauze, but she keeps talking. There's my girl. "She had a saint for everything. Saint Anthony for lost things, Saint Christopher for travel, Saint Jude for hopeless causes."
The cut is deeper than I expected, still bleeding. She'll need stitches. But she's talking to me again, and that's progress.
Fee winces as I clean the wound with antiseptic. "She gave this one to me." Fee's eyes flick to the bracelet on her wrist. "Said we'd all need a saint, being Quinns."
"Smart woman." I reach for the local anesthetic, drawing a small amount into a syringe. "This will sting for a few seconds, then numb the area completely."
Fee nods. I inject the anesthetic around the cut, watching her face for any sign she needs me to stop. She breathes through the sharp sting, jaw clenched but never making a sound.
Brave. Always so damn brave.
"I've seen you guys do this before," she says, watching me prepare the needle and thread. "Stitching each other up after business goes wrong. I'm just glad it's my foot and not somewhere more visible."
"Well, I do prefer working on prettier patients," I say, glancing up at her briefly. "And ones who smell better than Yuri after he's been shot."
That earns me an actual smile, small but genuine.
"So you'll leave me with something to remember you by," she continues, steadier now. "A scar from a wound that you ended up stitching back together."
My hands go still for just a heartbeat. The words hit differently than she probably intended, carrying weight that makes something shift in my stomach.
"Not exactly the romantic gesture I had in mind. And I'm not leaving you, Fee."
I lift my eyes to meet hers. Whatever happens next, whatever complications arise from today or last night, I'm not walking away again.
Fee studies my face like she's trying to decode something written in a language she doesn't quite understand yet.
I recognize that look. She's preparing to interrogate me, gathering her thoughts for the questions I can see forming behind those green eyes. That sharp mind of hers, always working, always analyzing, it's one of the things that draws me to her.
Fee wants the truth, all of it. And I want to give it to her. Want to give her everything she's looking for and more. If honesty is what it takes to earn my way back to her, then she'll have it.
