Unexpected - Eminem x Beyoncé Fan Fic

Consequences

Beyoncé POV

I sat in the hallway outside Em's room, slumped in a blue fabric covered chair that was uncomfortable and cold. All around me, off-white walls stood in stark contrast to the splashes of color marked by easels. No doubt, the artistry was an attempt to calm those waiting on loved ones - to somehow ease their minds as they tried not to think about whatever it was that had brought them to the intensive care unit.  Shaking my head, I looked down to stare at my hands as the night's events replayed in my mind. 

After I'd received my award, I'd gone to the back for the inevitable photo session. It had been a smaller event this time around, star-studded but less televised than something like the Grammy's. As a result, the pictures after the fact were done relatively quickly. As I'd stepped away from the walls, I'd moved to the hallway that would have led me back to the side entrance closest to my seat. 

There's been blood, so much blood. It had stained the flooring around him as I'd run to him, just in time to see him close his eyes. Bending my head back and resting it against the wall, I let the harsh halogen lights dance with the sparkle of the tears filling my eyes.

One of Marshall's attackers had a knife. He'd been stabbed a dozen times. A lot of the wounds required stitches, but hadn't been concerning - or so the doctors said. One, however, had punctured his liver.  The surgeon had said that the injury was low on some scale they used to classify injuries, so they did not intend to take him to surgery. 

Based upon what little I'd heard from the radio communications between the security guards, there were three men who'd beaten Marshall.  In addition to the stab wounds, the doctor said that they'd given Marshall a concussion and a lot of bruising, including at his ribs. He'd be recuperating, once he woke up, for quite a while. 

"You should go get some rest, Bey," Dre said from across the hall. He was leaned up against the wall, his arms across his chest. I shook my head, giving him a weak smile. 

"I can't," I responded. Dre nodded, shifting off the wall and coming to sit next to me. 

"He's going to be alright," Dre said quietly. "His stubborn ass doesn't know how to quit," he continued. "This will just piss him off."

I swallowed, nodding as I looked back down at my hands again. I could still see some of his blood in my knuckles. I couldn't seem to get it washed out. Worse, though, was what I'd seen. I'd be reliving the horror of watching his eyes fade out as I called his name for as long as I lived. 

"His girls are going to hate me," I noted, shaking my head. "All I've done is bring him hardship and pain." Dre slid an arm around the back of my chair, shaking his head. 

"No," Dre responded. "You've made his life better. The shithead has been walking around, head in the clouds over you for good while. He's been happy, Bey. You did that. You do that." 

I rested my head on Dre's shoulder, hoping his words were true. If the sight of Marshall bleeding and broken in that hallway had done anything, it had certainly cleared any cobwebs of doubt from my mind. I was in love with him. 

The thought of Marshall not breathing anymore was excruciating. I shuddered, the tears I'd been trying to gain control of for hours still coming. My lips felt swollen, my eyes painful, as more slid down my cheeks. I couldn't live without his teasing, without his smile, without his touch. I'd meant every word of my speech tonight, but more. 

I couldn't have said how long Dre and I sat outside of Marshall's room, but at some point, a nurse went in to check on him. Although it was past visiting hours and the ICU was closed, the unit itself was fairly slow at the moment and so they'd let me and Dre stay on the floor. Watching as the nurse disappeared into the room holding my heart, I held my breath. She would be able to give me another update in just a few minutes. 

About two minutes later, she came out and looked around. I sat up straighter, recognizing the sneaking look on her face. When she assured herself that whoever she was worried about wasn't there, she beckoned to Dre and I. 

"Come on," she whispered. "You can have a couple minutes."

I bolted out of my chair and into Marshall's room, my knees nearly giving out as I saw his eyes open. He had an air of pain about him, but he tried to smile at me as I got closer. I collapsed into the chair at his side, my hand going to his as my other brushed his forehead. 

"I was so scared," I whispered, blinking hard against the tears that were threatening again. Marshall nodded slightly, licking his lips before he spoke. 

"Going to be fine, Bey," he said quietly. His eyes scanned over me. "Worried about you."

"Don't be, man," Dre said from behind me, his voice hard. "I got her and the kids. No one is going near 'em."  I shook my head, knowing that Dre meant it but not believing it necessary. 

"Don't worry about me, baby," I said, stroking Marshall's hair. "I just-" I cut off as my voice broke. Swallowing, I smiled through my tears. "I just need you to get better."

Marshall nodded slightly, looking over my shoulder to Dre. I felt Dre step back and, moments later, heard the door click closed. When he was gone, Marshall spoke again. 

"I know you think you're not at risk, Bey, but I need you to up security. Listen to Dre. To me," he demanded quietly, shifting and grimacing a little. I moved out of my chair, sitting next to him on the medical cot as I pushed at him lightly. 

"Don't move so much," I instructed, frowning. The doctor had said he needed to stay on bed rest for a while. 

"Listen, Bey, please," Marshall asked. 

My eyes met his and I fell that much harder. A concussion, bruised ribs and twelve stab wounds, and this wonderful man was worried about me. I leaned forward, keeping my weight off him as I moved my hands to either side of his head and I kissed him lightly. 

"Okay, baby," I responded. I couldn't deny him. Not when he'd taken this beating because of me. Not when he looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered.

"But," I whispered against his lips. "You have to get better. Listen to your doctors." Marshall's lips quirked and I shook my head. He wasn't going to be a good patient without incentive. 

"If you behave, then I'll get a nurse outfit and make sure to wear it when you come home," I promised, hoping to lighten the pall of fear that still hung in the room. Marshall's eyes sparkled and he nodded. 

"I'll be a good boy," he said softly. His lids were starting to droop. Kissing him again, I lifted away and ran a hand over his jaw lightly, careful of the bruising marking his skin. His face was three different shades already, swelling taking up most of one eye. 

"Good," I whispered, watching his eyes close and his breathing even out. 

Swallowing, I took a shuddery breath and stepped back. The door opened and the nurse looked at me in question. Nodding, I walked toward the door. It was time to wait again, but this time, it would be with the knowledge that the man I loved still wanted me, despite what he'd gone through. That would have to carry me through, because I knew this was only the beginning. Tonight's events might be over, but the consequences of them were just starting to unfurl.