Water In My Lungs

Panacea

They'd gone home two days later, Killian prying himself away from Connor's side long enough to help her to the car. Her stitches held well, and the doctor suggested she stay but her stubbornness overwhelmed the advice. I just want to go home and sit in my bed.

“Connor, are you sure you want to go...” back there. Estelle couldn't finish her sentence for fear of upsetting her best friend.

“We have no where else to go. I can't be afraid of that place forever. Neither of us can.” She finished her sentence, touching Estelle's shoulder and rubbing her shirt with her thumb softly. “It'll be fine.”

“Do you need anything, Estelle?” Killian asked, popping his head into the girl's bedroom.

“Huh? No,” she sounded startled by the offer. “No, I'm okay. Is Connor okay?”

“She's fine. She told me to check on you, because you're a, uh... you're a 'nutjob'?” Killian quoted Connor, the term bumbling around his mouth like a foreign substance. Estelle chortled under her breath and shook her head.

“I'm fine. I just need a little coffee,” she admitted.

“I'll get it.”

“No!” She stopped him. “You don't have to go.” Her words were meant as a suggestion, but entered Killian's brain as a request and he accepted. He sauntered in and sat next to her on the floor, supporting his bent knees in his elbows and clasping his hands together.

“Are you really alright?” His kind green eyes washed over her and she took a breath. She looked in his direction, head tilted downward with thick, ashy curls marring her line of sight.

“There's a lot going on right now; I'll be fine after I sleep, I think.” She spoke like she was trying to convince herself rather than Killian. “It'll get better. We'll figure something out, I just need to know... more.”

“About what?” Killian asked. Estelle looked away and fiddled with the sheets on her bed; dark green and grey, fraying at the ends.

“About Bedivere. I still don't think I understand him totally.” She pulled a string and tossed it to the floor, “and I need to, I think.” She didn't look up for a long moment until she realized he wasn't saying anything. “You okay?”

“I'm fine.” He took a deep breath and rearranged into a cross legged position, putting his chin in his left hand. “You sound like him.” She tilted her head at him in confusion.

“Like who?” Her mind automatically went to the dark haired antagonist, his hand colliding with Connor's face flashing behind her eyes.

“Gallagher.” The name seemed to catch in his throat. “He said something similar to me once, not long before they took him.”

“What was it?” She was eager now, facing him with her hands laid flat on her curled legs. Killian touched a bent finger to his lips and disappeared inside of his head, forcing Estelle into an anticipative silence.

“'I need to know him, Killian. I need to understand him and I need to help him. He can't be so different from us as men.' It was one of the last things he said to me.” He looked at her and his face was frozen in despair. He didn't flinch.

“I'm so sorry, Killian,” she whispered, reaching out to touch his arm compassionately.

“Don't be sorry for that. I'm sorry for what I said in return, for the anger I showed him when he was grieving and looking for an answer to his pain. I've known him since he was born, I should've understood... but I didn't.”