I turned and headed towards the room. He followed without comment. I heard the door close behind us, heard the lock click, and then I couldn't hold it together anymore.
My breathing went wrong. Shallow and fast. Why was the air suddenly so thin? My vision tunneled at the edges. I reached for something to steady myself, but my hands wouldn't cooperate.
"Whoa, hey." Pip was there suddenly, hands on my shoulders, guiding me to sit. "Breathe. You need to breathe."
"I am breathing." But the words came out gasping, not convincing.
"No, you're hyperventilating." He crouched in front of me, hands moving to cup my face. "Look at me. Focus on me."
I tried. His face swam in and out of focus.
"In through your nose. Hold for four. Out through your mouth. Come on, with me."
I followed his instructions on autopilot, matching his breathing. Slowly, incrementally, my lungs started working properly again. The tunnel vision eased. The shaking in my hands lessened.
"There you go," Pip said softly. "That's better. Keep breathing."
We sat like that for several minutes with him crouched in front of me while I focused on taking in oxygen. Finally, when I felt marginally human again, I managed to speak.
"I thought you were dead."
The words hung between us. Pip stared into my soul, reading everything I didn’t say out loud.
I was lost. I need you to stay. I love you.
"I know," he said. "I figured that out when you called me back-to-back.”
"I couldn't reach you."
"I'm sorry. I already admitted that I should’ve called sooner." His thumbs brushed my cheekbones. "But I'm fine. See? Not even a scratch."
"There was a bomb threat. You were inside the building.” My voice cracked, and I had to stop.
Pip's voice was gentle. “I knew I needed to get Pharrell out, so that's what I did. That's the job."
"The job." I laughed bitterly. "The job nearly gave me a heart attack."
"Henny." He shifted, moving from crouching to kneeling, bringing himself closer to eye level. "I'm okay. I'm right here. You can touch me if you need proof."
I did need proof. My hands came up to grip his shoulders, feeling the solid muscle and bone beneath his shirt.
Real.
Alive.
Here.
"I've handled worse situations," I said, mostly to myself. "Shootouts, betrayals, and all the other shit. I don't fall apart like this."
"Those situations didn't involve someone you… care about. Not like me. Right, Daddy?"
The simple truth of it hit hard. He was right. I could stay calm through any crisis as long as it was abstract, professional, not personal. But Pip in danger? That bypassed every defense I had.
"I couldn't do anything," I admitted. "I couldn't help, couldn't protect you, couldn't?—"
My breath hitched again.
"Hey, no. Keep breathing." Pip's hands moved to the back of my neck, pressing against the tight muscles.
