The Smell Of Spray Paint

Thirty.

I'm not really sure why, but I was actually surprised as we left the hospital to get our taxi to the police station and then a hotel, that outside the main doors of the hospital it was mobbed with reporters.

I didn't even have the time to breathe in the fresh air before a camera was shoved in my face and I was asked questions. I cowered back from the sheer mass of people and recording equipment that was in my face. I felt a firm grip on my upper arm and looked up to see a man in police uniform pull me and escort me through the crowd.

I had to keep my head down, not looking into any lenses or saying anything to them. It felt like hours of stumbling and pushing before I was finally at the taxi, opening the door I slid my body into the seat beside Alfred as fast as I could before slamming it shut and reducing the shouts of questions outside to a low background noise.

The moment I had buckled up and we had made sure everyone was with us, we sped off, leaving them all behind. I noticed quickly the police were behind us, keeping a close watch. I sunk lower in my seat, embarrassed knowing that this was mostly all for me.

"Will they be at the hotel too?" I heard Alfred murmur as we disappeared from the reporters reach.

"I don't think so." Dad was looking ahead, wanting to hurry up and get to the police station so we could get Gilbert and then finally to the hotel for some rest.

Mom was beside Alfred and was watching out of the window as Berlin passed by. "We don't have to give them anything, sweetie. The authorities will give them a statement; I don't want any of us to get involved." She sounded so tired... I think I was the only one who wasn't exhausted and wanting to go home.

The drive was quiet, but I decided that was a good thing. If we were talking it would probably just be either gloomy or full of promises for the future that I knew better than to believe in.

I was also starting to get nervous... I had been though such a whirlwind in the past few hours since we were ripped apart that I hadn't even contemplated how Gilbert would feel about seeing me again. What if he was angry...? Him being arrested had been one of our biggest fears ever since he realized who I was. We were always thinking about him being seen with me and how that would look to someone who thought recognized me. Heck, it stumped our ideas for taking out Judas, to an extent where we almost had to die to get him put away.

So what if he was mad? It had been my fault we had been caught. I was careless walking around on my own and to top it all off, ran back to where Gilbert was instead of going elsewhere to put them off his trail.

I wasn't even sure if he knew I was coming...

I shifted nervously the whole drive, wiping my palms on my jeans and practicing a way I could greet him in a that wouldn't make him mad in my head. I even kept on checking myself in the rear view mirror of the taxi... I messed up my hair before smoothing it down again, then fluffing it up once more. I checked my teeth and we going to try and do more but the taxi suddenly stopped and people were moving again as we arrived at the station.

I was last to get out of the taxi... It had only been hours since he was taken away, but it felt like I hadn't seen him in days. I stumbled over to the building and peeked through the glass doors... There was no sign of him yet.

I felt a hand on my lower back. "If you don't wanna do this it's okay..." Mom was trying to talk me out of this, she wanted me to just forget about Gilbert and go home like nothing ever happened. "I'm sure he'd understand."

But understanding didn't mean being happy, and I knew that. "No, I want this." I assured her.

To prove my point, I pushed on the freezing metal of the police station door and opened it, stepping into the warmth.