Zechariah’s hands dropped away from his trousers like they burned his hands.

“It is running!” he called, then actually turned it on.

Kitty shook her head and sighed kissing his forehead and stroked his hair with the back of her free hand, as she had gotten some blood on her palm. "Don't apologize and don't ya dare clean that mess. Until the doctor says so, your gonna sit and take it easy. Just hold Abe and I'll clean it." She didn't want to, her back already ached so badly. "Or we'll get Noah to do it. Hopefully he'll be here soon with the doctor."

She looked do the bathroom and her lips became a thin line, she didn't care at all for the big brother, and it was definitely mutual. Moments like this made her feel very justified in her feelings towards him. "He is taking forever for some water."

"Why is he getting it from the bathroom anyway?" he asked with confusion. "There is a sink right there!" he pointed to the kitchen sink. "Putz," he muttered under his breath. "Fucking putz," he repeated equally as quiet. He felt tired from blood loss. "I can't help myself with the apologizing," he murmured, "I made the mess though, I should clean it up. But I know you won't let me. I don't think I have the energy anyway." Thankfully, the blood flow had ebbed, so it wasn't a big deal if he dropped his other hand. "Sit down, please. You shouldn't be up on your feet."

God Almighty. Redheads choked the very air out of a room, he swore. He took a deep sigh of a breath as he filled water, grabbed the hand cloth from the bathroom, and stepped back out with a bland expression.

“How is your hand, Uriel?” he said, kneeling carefully around rather than in the alcohol and paying no attention to Kitty.

He made brief eye contact with Abraham, to his chagrin.

Zechariah’s gloves were folded halfway in his breast pocket, and he pressed the cloth to the injury.

Kitty sighed. "You're totally right. He is.. And no, you're fine, darling. You're about to collapse again. We will get Noah to clean it up..." She leaned her forehead against his as she carefully rocked Abraham and kept the wound pressed. When Zechariah came out, she glared at him but said nothing and let him take care of the injury. She rubbed the now free hand against his back to sooth him.

He closed his eyes and started to drift off in his mind. "I'm tired. Going to close my eyes but I promise I'm awake." Lies. He was feeling the edges reality shift and voices were starting to echo. He tried to focus on his wife's voice but the thought of sleep was looming.

Oh, God. Uriel was not allowed to chase the light and abandon him with a child and a red-headed Catholic.

“Uriel,” Zechariah laughed, uncomfortably. “You are not going to die from a cut on your hand.”

Words created reality, he prayed. For good measure, he slapped some water on Uriel’s face with his free hand.

“Come on, Uriel. Your- Abraham needs a father.”

Kitty looked panicked and leaned in to his face after Zechariah tried a water slap. She patted his other cheek slightly harder each time. "No ya don't! You wake right up and look me in the eye. Your brother is right for once, and ya can't leave me. I won't let you. If you try to sleep, I swear I'll slap ya awake and I don't want to do that." There was a little desperation in her voice as her words took on a more begging tone. "Damn it, where is Noah with the doctor?!"

"Not dying..." he murmured, "Just studying the insides... of my... eyelids. That's... all..." And he slipped into the darkness. The man seemed to go boneless in the chair and slumped. The blood soaked the cloth his brother was holding to his hand. That was one nasty wound on his hand. As the others tried to wake him, he slumped over even further, his perch upon the chair precarious. He looked ashen by that point, and it wasn't from looking at the blood this time, it was just that he was bleeding like the very devil had stabbed his hand.

"Here!" shouted Noah as he ran into the kitchen, followed by Zech's favourite doctor.