Naomi was getting faster, stronger. She decided training with the pack was not what she wanted after all. She liked the time she spent with Killian, but she was strong enough to play capture the flag.

Killian wasn't in the house when she got up which was odd. He never went anywhere without her, and she had a sinking feeling that he might not be okay.

She gathered her courage. She could go to the main house alone, and just check the office. Maybe he needed to get an early start. Maybe she could be helpful and take him some coffee.

It was a lovely morning. The days were getting colder, and there was a light frost that sparkled under the orange glow of the morning sun.

She went up the stairs. It was still pretty early, so no one was around.

The office door was wide open which meant Killian was probably not in there. He hated working with it open.

Mickie was sitting at the desk, typing away on the computer. He looked up at her and gave a small smile.

"Hey, Luna. How are you?"

"Hi," she whispered by the door, shifiting uncomfortably.

"You're looking for Killian. Today is not a good day for him. I'll show you where he is at," he said, standing up.

Not a good day? But if he was having a bad day, why didn't he come to her? Then again, she did the same thing on her birthday.

She followed Mickie all the way down the stairs and then one more flight to a basement converted into a gym.

The punching bag was swinging so violently she knew it was going to fall. Killian didn't stop or look up.

"Killian," Mickie called, trying to get his attention.

"What?" he snapped, giving one final hit that made the bag fall with a thud.

She could see the fabric was starting to split after being hit so many times. His hands were bleeding. The wrappings were a dark red color that made her stomach twist.

Killian finally looked up, and he looked shocked to see her. "Shit, Naomi. What are you doing down here? You should be sleeping." He glanced at Mickie. His features were tired and he had a deep frown. "Why the hell would you bring her down here?"

"She came upstairs looking for you," he defended.

Naomi finally walked closer to him, reaching for his hands. He pulled back until the tips of his fingers were just barely resting on her palms.

"Kill," she murmured. " You're hurting yourself. What's the matter?"

His chest heaved. He wanted to snap, he wanted to tell her to go back to the house and leave him be. But he couldn't do that, not to his girl, no matter how upset he was.

He watched Mickie retreat up the stairs, before his eyes found hers as they always did.

He sucked in a deep breath, stepping away from her, but she followed. He sat on the bench, and she moved to a set of cabinets on the wall. She shuffled through thr cleaning supplies before finally finding a first aid kit.

She sat next to him, reaching for his hand. He resisted, but she persisted. She unwrapped his left hand, wiping away the dried blood before cleaning the wound with a ton of alcohol.

"Fuck, baby," his hissed in pain, pulling his hand back and shaking it out.

"That's what you get for being grumpy. Bring it back over here," she demanded cutely. He chuckled despite himself.

"This is going to scar and you're going to have ugly hands," she said.

"But you'll love me no matter the scars?" he whispered, turning her cheek so she faced him.

"I love you even when you are a sweaty, bloody mess," she affirmed, cheeks pink, brightened by her small smile.

He bent his head so his lips caught hers. He pulled his hand free from her small ones so he could cup her cheeks. The kiss was rough. He was trying to tell her how much he was hurting, how much he loved her, all of the conflicting emotions wrapped into one.

She struggled to find what to with her hands, before finally reaching around his back, trying to get impossibly closer to him. He seemed to get the message. He pulled her onto his lap, and her hands went to his neck.

He licked her lips teasingly. She squirmed like the action disgusted her which he thought was really funny. He pulled back with a laugh, and Naomi pouted.

"Gross," she frowned.

"What? You think my kisses are gross?" he teased again, loving the look of her swollen lips and flushed cheeks. He could forget about all of his problems when he was with her.

Killian gave her another peck before his features hardened again. Naomi waited patiently, knowing he would tell her what was going on when he was ready.

He sighed, beginning to feel the throbbing, hot pain of his hands and the sweat clinging to his shirt.

"Let's get out of here."

The walk home was quiet. He went up to shower and she made some breakfast. She figured he was hungry. Who knows how long he was down there for.

When he came downstairs, he was dressed in comfy clothes which meant he was not going out for the rest of the day. He had bandaged his hands, and his dark hair glimmered with water droplets he must have missed.

He stepped up behind her. "Thanks for breakfast. I'm sorry about this morning, sweetheart," he said sincerely. He kissed her forehead.

"It's okay, Kill," she answered sweetly. "I'm here if you need to talk."

She figured today was something significant with his parents, and she respected that he wasn't ready to talk. It was hard for her to open up, too. She just hoped he knew she was there to listen.