Tears are streaming down my cheeks and then I hear,
“Killian!”
It’s Will.
He looks me over and moves toward his brother.
“Willie! Get these fucks off me and gimme my gun. I gotta go save Violet. The fire is blazing out of control and we gotta stop it before it gets to her!”
“Killian, I’m right here. I’m safe,” I call out.
My eyes bounce between Will, Wes, and Jagger. “You guys, we have to calm him down. Has someone called an ambulance?”
“Doc is on his way,” Tony says breathlessly, and he’s got Killian in a headlock. “He’s almost an hour out, though.”
Killian socks him in the stomach. “Let me go, Tone. Fuck off!”
“Killian can’t wait an hour. He’s a mess. And he’s gonna hurt someone, or himself,” I say as Killian punches Tony again, this time in the nuts, making Tony buckle, face going red, but to Tony’s credit, he doesn’t let go. Instead, he falls to the rug, taking Killian with him.
“Maybe it should be the hospital,” Will says.
“No. Kill wouldn’t want that. No way,” Tony argues, wrapping his legs around Killian’s torso in a hold that makes it look like they’re in a wrestling match – except that they’re both in suits.
“Let go of me, Tone, or I’ll kill you,” Killian grinds out, trying to fight his way out of the tangle.
There are holes in the walls. Big ones, little ones. If he shot out the window, he probably shot bullets into the walls, too.
Killian roars out more anger and I see the knuckles on his right hand are bleeding. He manages to pull out of Tony’s hold, rushes to his desk and crawls under it. “I can’t find it. Where’s my fucking gun? Let me at my wife or I will kill every fucking one of you, especially you!” He comes out from under the desk and points at the wall where no one stands.
Wesley gets extra ornery at that point and Jagger orders Will and Tony to basically sit on Kill until Doc gets here. The mystery Doc is going to take too long. I can’t let him endure this for another hour, so I say, fuck this and then I pull my phone out and dial 9-1-1.
***
We’re on our way to the hospital. Me and Will in Will’s car with Wes following. Killian was taken there in an ambulance.
Nobody seemed real happy with me about this. Tony even tried to take my phone from me while I spoke to emergency services, but Wesley and Will got in his way and stopped him from doing that. I lost my shit, shouting that if they didn’t let the paramedics in when they got here that I’d be the one to shoot everyone.
I do not care that Tony’s angry, because finally, finally, Killian isn’t suffering. They sedated him before putting him on a gurney to take him to the hospital.
When the two paramedics came in and started crowding Killian, asking questions, trying to contain the situation I guess, because the other guys eased off it went even more amped and Wes got furious because my husband was being so erratic that I got knocked when Killian went from having me in his arms one moment to fighting with an invisible someone the next, meaning I stumbled backwards and banged my lower back on the corner of his desk.
And then there were police and firefighters in the office with us, too.
The paramedics tried to get him talking and he ripped at his shirt and threw it off, sitting on the floor, thrusting his hands through his hair. His shoulders slumped, looking sad and telling them he couldn’t find me.
When I pushed my way through the wall of men blocking me to try to comfort him again, first he pulled me close and then he went crazy again, fighting with someone invisible, knocking me sideways again and lunging at nothing before nearly taking a dive toward the broken window, only getting stopped because Jagger moved fast, hooking him around the waist, taking them both to the floor, and demanding that the paramedics sedate him.
Killian growled loud, “Get the fuck off me!”
“Jab him,” the male paramedic yelled to the female.
She moved forward with a syringe, and I turned into Wesley’s body, squinting my wet eyes shut. He hugged me, patting my back.
“It’s okay. Come on,” he said.
Killian shouted and growled, throwing punches for another moment, but it was as if the strength, like his very essence was slowly seeping out of him until he was just lying there, gesturing in slow motion. This felt like torture to watch. And then his eyes finally closed before they loaded him onto a stretcher to take him to the hospital.
***
Now that we’re here, questions are being fired at me.
“He hasn’t been sleeping well,” I say, “Other than that, I don’t know. I don’t know what this could be. It’s not him. He’s always in complete control. He’s never acted remotely like this.”