It takes all of two seconds for Dastan to break out of Connors hold. He's rushing forward again and Emma grabs onto his arm. He shakes her off as if she weighs nothing. I've never seen him this crazed, uncontrollable. His eyes are feral, his expression frenzied. Connor makes a grab at him again, it's only agitating him more I realize. He's having some strange version of a panic attack, I recognize the deranged look in his eyes. I know what that feels like.
This isn't going to work. I look at Anne, she should know how to deal with him like this. I'm sure she's had to talk him off the edge many times before. She catches my eyes, "What?" she asks, there's a hint of shock and fear mingling in her voice. She's afraid of Dastan? That's ridiculous, no matter what the situation is I know Dastan would never hurt any of us. Even when he hates me he's never made me feel unsafe.
I've always been able to go to him to feel secure; sheltered and protected. It's been one of the few constants in our lives, between the three of us Emma is the fixer, Dastan is my safe space- the protector, and I used to be the steadying point on which they both depended. I'd be the rational voice in every situation, the one ready to take the brunt of whatever emotions were stirring. That's what we need right now. That's who he needs right now. I take a fortifying breath, pulling the oxygen down as far as it can go, feel it full me up making me solid. Whatever he throws at me, I can take. I'm the force against which the wave crashes.
Stepping into his path isn't easy, I know he won't hurt me. I'm sure of it but some primal part of me tells me I'm an idiot for endangering myself this way. I ignore it, he's the only thing that matters right now, he needs to calm down before this gets even more out of hand and we have to bail him out of a holding cell. Oh, Haider would absolutely love that.
"Move," it's one little word, he forces it out between his teeth. "I'm going to kill him." I don't doubt that he could right now. I'm pretty sure that man is still unconscious and bleeding inside but I'm not going to let him do something he regrets. His chest is heaving, his breaths coming in harsh spurts and stops, his shoulders are tensed. His frame looks impossibly larger, exaggerated by the rampaging emotions swirling around him. He's not nearly stable enough to be allowed anywhere near another person right now.
"I'm not going to do that," I offer in a gentle voice. I'm careful to keep my tone light, soft; like speaking to a cornered animal. I need to calm him down. His eyes harden further, there's a ferocious look to him that has my hackles rising, he's not going to screw up everything he's worked so hard for on a dumb bar brawl. Not if I can help it.
He seems to recognize the resolve in my expression, he narrows his eyes at me. "Kiera," there's so much anger there, I can hear it crackling just beneath the surface of his toughened tone. When did he get this way, so broken. It's like watching the carefully constructed pieces of him fall away to reveal the soft, bloodied interior. I doubt anyone else can see that there's more than vengeance and fury in those onyx orbs. No, there's so much hurt, determination, the desire to protect. But who's protecting him, who's there to make sure he's okay. My heart turns fragile like glass in my chest, cracking from the weight of the guilt his gaze buries me under. "Get out of my way right now."
It's a command, there's a curious little part of my mind that wants to see what he'd do if I just let him. See how far he'd go to defend me. A bolt of pleasure zings under my skin, he still cares enough to be this affected by a comment some creep made about me. It's selfish I know, but still gratifying to think that a part of him will always care- even when he doesn't want to. Still I don't move.
"You wanna get to him, you're going to have to go through me." I tell him, crossing my arms over my chest. I try to make my expression as hard as possible. I know he's about to snap at me too, I need to be prepared to take it.
Disgust a lights on his features, "Did you hear what he said about you, why would you protect him right now?" He asks in a voice fraught with anger, he sounds almost at the end of his rope right now. It's an accusation.
"I'm not protecting him."
Its not much by way of explanation but I see the moment my meaning registers in his eyes. His eyes that he's too angry to keep guarded right now tell me exactly what I need to know. His raven stare reads disbelief like a book, "Do I look like I need your protection?" he almost shouts, I catch Connor moving behind him as if to restrain him from lunging at me. I give a slight, almost imperceptible shake of the head, hoping he understands not to interfere.
"Honestly?" I ask, unnecessarily and then go on without waiting for an answer. "Yes, you do." He looks like he's about to argue, "What are you doing right now?"
He doesn't respond, his fists clench, his jaw working and for a second I'm afraid he's going to shatter his teeth from the force with which he's clamped them together. I focus my eyes on the little tendon in his neck that's pulled taut from the strain of his anger. "You need to calm down," I tell him. It's a bold move but I step closer. As volatile as he is this could be a mistake, I don't think he would hurt me but he can easily get around me from this close of a range. When he doesn't immediately shove me aside and rush the clubs front door, I take another step.
Putting myself securely in his personal space we stand on the sidewalk, almost chest to chest. I know there are people watching; bouncers, people in line, Anne, Emma, Connor. But right now it's not important, they can think whatever they want. I just need to make sure Dastan is okay, we'll deal with the rest of it later. Cautiously, I raise my hand bringing it up between us. We both watch, hypnotized, as my hand falls delicately against his steady chest. Looking up into his face, I find him already watching me apprehensively. There are questions in his inky gaze, I try to convey reassurance- strength, sincerity through my own. "Calm down, Dastan," I let his name fall from my lips with a reverence I've reserved only for him. An act of trust and intimacy I haven't given him since I stomped all over his heart. I hope it's enough right now to break through whatever haze this is.
His ragged breathing stutters, and startles back into rhythm. It's the break I was looking for, it forces him to take slower breaths. More steady breaths. Good that's a start, "That's it," I encourage stepping closer still. My hand is trapped between our bodies now, my fingers fisted in the cool leather of his jacket. His heaving chest has stilled some, there's a more even rhythm now. I watch him carefully as he seems to deflate. His body sags a little and I'm right there to catch him. He rests his forehead against my shoulder, his hands falling to my hips, I feel him fist his fingers into the fabric of my dress mirroring my earlier actions. He's grounding himself in this moment. If it helps him I'd stand out here like this all night.
I bring my hand up and stroke it through the fine strands of crow colored hair. It feels like it always has; soft and perfect. The familiarity of the gesture cause me to relax further into his body. I meet Connor's eyes over his shoulder then. His face is stone, his eyes steely; cold. He looks like he's just figured out the answer to a long-asked question. I'll deal with that later. Right now, I breath in the familiar scent of a life long since lost to me, feel the solid weight of Dastan's body against mine the way I never thought I would again, and there's that dumb part of me again that doesn't want to move. So, I don't.