“Christ!” He sat for another moment, rubbing his stinging ear. “What’s your problem?”

“Your hands aren’t the only things you’ve cut to blazes. Now get the shirt off so I can see what you’ve done to yourself.”

“What the hell do you care? I could bleed to damn death and you wouldn’t bat an eye. You’ve always hated me.”

“No. I’ve always been afraid of you, and that was foolish. You’re just a pitiful man who hasn’t a clue of his own worth. And I made mistakes I’m sorry for, and I hope I’m woman enough to admit it.” Because he wasn’t cooperating, she tugged off his tattered T-shirt herself. “I thought you had beaten your mother.”

“What? My mother—I never—”

“I know that. Be still. Oh, Jesus, boy, you’ve done a job here. Oh, poor lad.” She crooned now as she dabbed gently at the gashes on his back. “You’d have killed yourself for her, wouldn’t you?”

Suddenly tired, unbearably tired, he laid his head on the counter, shut his eyes. “Go away. Leave me alone.”

“I won’t. Nor will anyone else. You’ll have to be the one to do it. Hold on now, this is going to hurt.”

He hissed between his teeth as the antiseptic bit. “I just wanna get drunk.”

“You will if you must,” she said easily. “But a man who would brave an earthquake to get to his woman should have enough nerve to face her sober. This bruising could use liniment. Well, we’ll see to that after we’ve seen to the rest. Take off your pants.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, I’m not going to—Christ!” He yelped when she twisted his other ear. “All right, all right, you want me naked, you got it.”

He rose, wrenched the button of his torn jeans, tugged them off. “I’d have gone to the hospital if I’d known what the alternative was going to be.”

“That cut on your thigh could use stitches, but we’ll do what we can.”

He sat bad-temperedly but shoved the tumbler aside. He didn’t feel like drinking any longer. “Is she all right?”

A smile ghosted around Ann’s mouth, but she kept her head lowered. “She’s hurting, in more ways than one. She needs you.”

“No, she doesn’t. The last thing. You know what I am.”

Now she lifted her head, looked him dead in the eye. “Yes, I know what you are. But do you, Michael Fury? Do you know what you are?”