On the media menu today is music, my friends!

I love this song, it kinda reminds me of Al.

Fawn's POV

Worriedly, I was pacing the living room.

Occasionally I would glance at the clock only to get even more worried.

It's half past 7.

Where is he.

Earlier I heard a gunshot that sounded very close...I was hoping that meant he'd be home soon.

But that was three hours ago.

Several times I've thought about leaving to go find him, but...what if he's fine, and then I'd just get in trouble...

I doubt he'd be mad once he heard my reasoning, but I'd just feel silly.

But this has gone on long enough.

Finally, I paced right over to my little black heels and slipped them on.

Hurrying over to the door, I unlocked it and swung it open.

Then, promptly, I let out a shriek.

Mostly from the fright of Alastor standing right there. Partly because he looked like death itself.

"Alastor! Oh my god, what the hell happened to you, are you alright?!" I questioned him as he stumbled into the house.

Quickly I shut the front door and locked it back, then turned back to Al. His hand was over his side, and he had blood smeared on his face and...soaking through his suit where his hand was.

I rushed to him, taking his gun from him and his bag, tossing them both to the side.

"Al, are you ok? What happened, are you ok?" I asked frantically, my hands touching him a little bit of everywhere because I didn't quite know what needed tending.

His skin was slightly pale and he looked clammy, "m-my dear, I've been shot..."

I gasped sharply, "shot?!" I screamed, "w-w-what do I do, a-are you alright?!"

Tears began filling my eyes and he quickly hushed me, smiling at me, "Fawn, my dear, calm down! You're alright, darling, look...I'm ok, look in my eyes..."

I took a deep breath, looking up at him as I trembled slightly. He took one of my hands in his, the blood transferring to my skin.

He didn't seem to be...lethargic...or all that weak. Really, he just looked like he's hurting real bad.

"Good girl..." he whispered once I'd managed to calm down, "now, go up to our room...Edith's healing jelly is in the bathroom, in the medicine cabinet. A little b-bit of that should fix me right up," he said.

I turned and sprinted up the stairs, my body operating purely on autopilot as I stumbled into our room and the bathroom.

I threw the medicine cabinet opened, taking deep breaths as I searched for the magic goop.

Finally, I found it in an unlabeled jar. It wasn't hard to tell it apart, considering it looks like crystal clear Vaseline.

Grabbing it, I ran back downstairs, nearly skipping half the steps.

Al had laid on the floor, his suit coat now removed and shirt unbuttoned and opened.

I fell to my knees at his side, "I-I got it, now what do I do?"

Looking at the wound, I felt like I'd be sick. It was inflamed and angry looking, dried blood and puss caked around it.

I glanced at Al, and he had his arm over his face, breathing shakily, "take a look, dear...does it l-look infected?"

Yes.

I nodded, even though he can't see me and whimpered, "very much, yes..."

"Dammit..." he hissed, "go into the kitchen and get my whiskey. You'll need to clean it before we can do anything else."

I got up and did what he said, snagging a towel on the way as well before I was right back by his side.

"W-what do I do, Al..." I asked pitifully, barely even able to look at the rather large bullet hole.

"Pour some into the wound...then clean off the area and any fluids you see," he got cut off by a grunt, taking a few quick breaths before continuing, "please hurry, dear, before I go into shock..."

That stressed me out immediately and I started to panic, quickly opening the bottle.

"Ok, deep breath," I warned him, then poured the alcohol directly onto the wound.

I nearly dropped the bottle when he arched up slightly and let out a deep, strained groan. He sounded like he was in so much pain, and I felt awful for being the one that did it to him.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" I said quickly, fumbling with the towel. I wiped away the muck and dirt and puss, revealing a cleaner, better looking hole in his side.

He was breathing heavily, and growled through his teeth, "fuck, that hurt," he hissed.

After letting him settle back down, I grabbed the healing jelly, "w-where do I put it? Just on top?" I asked, opening the jar.

"Y-yes...and inside," he said and I gasped in disgust.

"Inside?" I questioned if I heard him right.

"Yes, baby, inside..." he strained, "no matter what I do, you have to rub it in for at least 5 seconds."

My shaking hand reluctantly dipped into the jar, and I got a good amount on my fingers.

Looking at the wound, I swallowed hard and decided to get the hard part out of the way.

"O-ok, another deep breath...I'm really sorry," I squeaked and then plunged two fingers into the wound.

He tried to arch away from me, a scream getting suppressed in his throat and escaping as a rough yell.

I looked at him, and his face was twisted up in a pained expression, his teeth grit hard.

Suddenly he grabbed my wrist and tried to yank me off, but I kept massaging the inside of his wound.

Nearly gagging at the feeling.

"Al, let go, I need to heal you!" I chastised him, and he grunted angrily, but did as he was told.

Five seconds felt like years, but finally I pulled my fingers out and shivered.

After wiping my hand on the towel, I got more jelly and rubbed it onto the surface of the wound.

His breathing had calmed a lot, but he was still trembling slightly. I watched the hole slowly mend itself, the skin losing the angry red inflammation surrounding it.

He took in a deep breath, and let out a sigh.

Then he rolled over to reveal a slightly smaller, less angry looking hole.

"Now just a little on the entry wound, my love..."

I cleaned a bit of the blood off before massaging some jelly into the wound. It closed up quickly, leaving behind not even a trace that it had been there.

Once that was finished, he stopped trembling and slowly sat up.

His skin was still pale, but he grabbed the jar and got a good amount of the stuff on his fingers before eating it.

After about 20 seconds his skin gained its life back, and he closed his eyes and sighed.

"That is much better...thank you so much, you did so well, my d-"

When he opened his eyes and saw my face, he froze.

I had tears falling from my eyes, and I was hiccuping softly.

"Baby? What's the matter, sweetheart," he cooed softly, reaching for me.

My brows furrowed and I avoided him.

I don't know if I want to hug him, kill him, or yell at him.

Maybe all three.

"What's wrong?" I scoffed, "you just came in here with a fucking gunshot wound and ask me w-what's wrong?!"

He blinked and shook his head, "but I'm ok, dear...good as new!" He said with a smile, holding his arms out.

I glared at him, and quickly stood up off the floor and hugged my arms around myself.

"I told you to be careful!" I continued lecturing him, "that is not careful! How did that even happen!"

Did he misfire? Did another hunter do that?

He didn't answer, but stood up as well.

"I'm ok Fawn! Please don't shout, baby...there's no need for all this, please—"

"Alastor, you could have died!" I yelled, my voice breaking. I pointed to where he'd been laying, "right there. Right there on the floor, right in front of me. You could've died out there," I pointed back towards the door.

He was quiet.

My lip trembled and my vision clouded with more tears, "I told you to be careful."

What would have happened if I was just a little too slow? If he had gone into shock? If he hadn't even made it home at all?

I imagined leaving, going to search for him only to find his corpse lain on the ground halfway to our house.

The tears spilled over.

Quickly I retreated into the kitchen, swiping at my tears and hiccuping. It still smelled faintly of fresh bread, the loaf sitting on the counter.

I'd put it there to surprise him when he came home.

Looks like he's the one who ended up delivering a surprise.

I held my arms, sniffling as I stood at the window, staring outside into the clearing. It was dark, now...

Had he been any later...he'd be alone, bleeding in the dark.

Again, tears filled my eyes.

I know he's fine. He's alright, he's perfectly ok.

It's the thought of losing him that scares me the most. That situation was too real, too intense.

Too close.

"Baby..." I head his soft voice as he entered the kitchen. I kept my back to him, sniffling softly.

I felt his hands slip over my shoulders and down my arms.

I wanted to lean back into his touch, and let him wrap me up in a hug. I wanted to put my head on his chest and hear his heartbeat.

But that can wait. I'm still mad at him for putting me and himself through that situation.

He gently moved my hair over one shoulder, leaning down to brush his lips over my neck.

The kisses he gave me were very soft, feeling like ghosts tickling my skin. He kept rubbing my arms, and then pressed his lips against my neck and stayed there, taking a deep breath.

"It smells wonderful in here..." he said quietly, "did you make something?"

The casual question caught me off guard, distracting me momentarily from my anger.

I nodded slightly, "mmhm...bread..." I mumbled quietly, still hiccuping occasionally.

"Mmm...I never could figure out that old bread recipe...it smells like you did a splendid job..." he said, still kissing my neck.

My anger was slowly dying.

I lowered my arms to my sides, and sniffled, "t-thanks..." I uttered softly.

Finally, I turned around to face him.

He gave me a soft smile, immediately lifting his hand to my face and wiping away any stray tears with his knuckle.

His finger curled under my chin and he lifted my head up, "look...see, I'm ok...you're ok...we're ok."

I sniffled again, and nodded, "I know...you j-just scared me..." I admitted, and he chuckled.

"Do you think I wasn't scared?" He shook his head, "I thought about you the whole way home...I've told you before with my last breath I will love you...and I'll tell you again."

He leaned down and kissed me softly.

"I will always fight to be with you..." he whispered, "no matter how far apart we are."

I threw my arms around his neck and buried my face into his shoulder.

"I love you...please don't ever do that again..."

He hugged me back, squeezing me like it was the last time he ever would, "I wouldn't dream of it, my love...now..."

He pulled away, giving me a lopsided smile. His face was still smeared with blood.

"Why don't you and I go and take ourselves a shower and then you can teach me how you made this wonderful smelling bread!"

A little smile quirked on my lips as I took his hand and we started to walk towards the stairs.

"Me? Teach you?" I giggled and he nodded exuberantly.

"Why, yes indeedy! You're obviously quite the little baker, my dear, whereas that is an area I have not yet mastered."

I blushed, "ok then, I'll teach you," I agreed.

Then both of us disappeared into his room to clean off, and perhaps he could "apologize" to me a little bit more while we're at it.