38 This is My Gig, Got it?

Amalia stared at the wall of memos behind Hunter. As if she didn't have enough to deal with. Charlie was on a hospital bed because of her. Hunter was forcing her to reveal her actual identity to him. And now this.

She sighed.

Why did it seem that everytime she had a handle on things they collapsed. Every. Single. Time. Everything in her life felt like it was spiralling out of control. She wanted to grab her things and go deep underground, far away from this man who shook up her small and fragile existence.

Amalia stared down at the ground, a steady drip drip drip of tears hitting the ground at her feet as she whispered.

"It's them. The ones who got my dad."

Hunter felt his heart wrench in half in his chest. This little girl, had become this broken up, because of them? It was their fault that she couldn't trust? That she kept everyone away? He looked at the wall wishing he could incinerate it with his eyes. His military training kicked in as he studied her notes and the various locations of sightings on the maps.

"Let me do this. There's no need for you to dirty your hands like this, not for them." He stated, his voice emotionless.

Amalia's head shot up like a knife. The anger in her eyes enough to pierce through the sympathy that he had been allowing himself to feel for her. He had forgotten momentarily that this kitten wasn't as entirely defenseless as she appeared.

"The hell I will!" She spat back at him. She hadn't gotten this far just to hand it over to some playboy who wanted to pretend to be a hero. "This is my gig, mine! Got it, Hunter!" She ground out between her teeth. Her anger had burned away all her tears and anguish.

"You might be able to coerce me into telling Charles the truth, but I will be damned if I let you take over on this one!" She yelled at him.

Hunter watched as the girl who moments before had been weeping softly by herself turned into a tyrant in the course of a heart beat. He shook his head as she ranted, his hands going up in the air.

"Alright! Alright! But at least, let me help. After all, that is what you joined for right?" He stared her down, he didn't like the idea of being used. But at least this way, he could use it as an excuse to keep her safe. If he couldn't solve all her problems for her, he could at least help her as she solved them herself.

Amalia's shoulders slumped as she pinched the bridge of her nose. She sighed once more and mumbled reluctantly.

"Alright, you win. You can help."

Hunter took a few steps before her and reached out his hands to pull her into his embrace. Her body went stiff in his embrace, her arms held to her side as she clenched her fists. It was exactly as it had been that first night at the hospital.

He held her head to his shoulder and breathed in the scent of her hair. He wanted her, more than anything. But he knew this was a not a good time. He needed to be firm with her this time. It wasn't just her he had to worry about now.

After a few moments, he stepped back. He tucked all of his building up emotions into a tidy little corner in his heart and crossed his arms over his chest.

"You need to dress. We need to go clean up your mess before we do anything else."

Amalia felt the ground go out from her feet. He had gone from caring and protective to cold and indifferent in a matter of moments. Standing before her now was the boss. The feared leader of the Foot Soldiers. She was afraid, perhaps for the first time they had met.

Amalia nodded head in silence as she made her way back to her room to change. Hunter watched her back as she retreated. He hated seeing that pained look on her face but he couldn't afford to be soft on her, not anymore.

Moments later, Amalia returned from the bedroom in a fresh pair of jeans and a clean hoodie. Her hair was damp but tidied up and with no trace of its usual spikes. It was evident she had been crying, but as much as Hunter wanted to comfort her he didn't dare.

While Amalia slipped into her shoes, Hunter made a phone call.

"Hey, you done there yet?" He inquired. Watching as the usually lively Amalia meekly put on her shoes and jacket.

After sometime he spoke into the phone again.

"Good I need you to come to this address, bring a camera and take notes. I need our best resources on this." He muttered into the phone as he rattled off Amalia's address.

Briefly, he could feel a pair of eyes staring daggers into his back while he gave the order. He paid it little mind, however. She had given him permission to help. So he was going to help. He was determined that he would not allow her to prolong her suffering.

After giving Cage his orders he hung up. Turning to the girl who waited petulantly for him he gestured for her to follow, and together the two made their way to the hospital.

******

Sometime later, the two arrived at the hospital and made their way to Charlie's room. The closer they came to the door the more Amalia began to freeze and hesitate. Hunter turned back to look at her. Seeing her there, her face ashen and pained, he wondered how many times he would feel his heart ache like this.

Sometimes, it was really hard to be the boss. Tonight, the biggest challenge before him was not just his role as the boss, but his role as a man. The two biggest parts of him were warring deep inside of his heart, and it was all he could do to keep his cool.

Taking Amalia by the hand he propelled her into the room by her hand.He had to keep reminding himself this was her karma. The retribution she deserved her deception, even if on some level she was already tortured. Had she been honest with Charlie from the onset, this may have been avoided.

Amalia came to stand at the bed. Her heart ached to see Charlie there. His body was seemingly lifeless and full of tubes. She wanted to punch the machine attached to him which was measuring his heart rate.

These tubes and machines didn't belong here. This was her brother.

Amalia took a deep breath and pulled up a chair at his bedside as she whispered.

"Charles?"

Her voice cracked from the strain of the tears which held back.

Beside her, she could the slow and steady beep of the machines. Amalia took his hand in hers and whispered quietly.

"You have to fight this, Charles. We need to talk. Please?"

Amalia took a deep breath as she waited for a sign. Anything at all, to tell her he would be okay. In the space of a few moments, her prayers were answered. It was almost hard to tell but she felt it. The light pressure of his fingers, while he squeezed her hand.