Her hand was still resting on my chest.
It was quiet.
The kind of quiet that doesn't come often anymore, like the world had paused for us, just for tonight.
Aurora lay beside me, hair splayed over the pillow, cheeks flushed.
She wasn't asleep yet.
I could feel her breathing change whenever she was pretending to be shallow, intentional, like she was trying too hard to be still.
"Stop thinking," I murmured, brushing my thumb over her knuckles.
Her fingers flexed, holding mine tighter. "I'm trying not to."
"You're failing."
A breath escaped her nose, half sigh, half laugh. "Sorry. My brain's stubborn."
"I know," I said, turning to face her more. "But tonight... can we just be here? No threats. No suspects. No calls."
Her eyes flicked to mine. "And tomorrow?"
"We'll burn the whole world down if we have to."
That made her smile.
Not the sarcastic one.
The soft one i hadn't seen in weeks.
I reached over and tucked her hair behind her ear. Her skin was warm under my touch.
Everything about her always felt... warm. No matter how cold the world got.
"Do you trust me?" I asked suddenly.
Her eyes didn't leave mine. "I do."
She said it without hesitation.
No trembling voice.
No second-guessing.
And God, it hit me harder than i expected.
I leaned in and kissed her forehead. Then her cheek. Then down to her lips. She met me halfway.
There was no urgency this time.
No frantic hands or desperation to forget everything. Just us.
Her body curved into mine like it always belonged there. Familiar. Known. Loved.
And i kissed her like i was afraid the moment would end too soon.
Because it always did.
Later, she was curled against me, wearing only my shirt, tracing shapes over my chest with her fingers.
I closed my eyes and let her.
"Lance?"
"Mm?"
"Do you ever think about... just leaving?"
I opened my eyes and looked at her.
"Like running?" I asked. "Disappearing somewhere?"
She nodded. "Yeah. With me."
My throat felt tight.
"I think about it more than i should," I admitted. "But we wouldn't be able to live with it. Not when we know there's still someone out there hiding. Lying. Getting away with it."
Her fingers stopped.
Then resumed.
"I know," she whispered. "I just, I get scared. What if they come for me again? What if next time, you're not with me?"
I pulled her up gently so she was lying fully over me, her face hovering inches from mine.
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Promise?"
I looked into her eyes. "On everything i have left."
The rain started hitting the window around three a.m. Soft at first. Then steady.
Aurora fell asleep on my chest. And i just stayed there, watching the ceiling, listening to the storm outside.
I didn't want to close my eyes. Not yet.
Because this right here?
This was peace.
The storm outside didn't let up.
It raged in waves, softening, then crashing harder again.
Like the world was reminding us it was still out there. Still waiting.
But in here?
It was her warmth.
Her skin on mine.
Her hair spilling over my collarbone. Her breath steadying slowly, finally.
I didn't want to move.
Not even to blink.
"Aurora," I whispered, even though she was asleep. Or maybe half-asleep. "You're safe with me."
She didn't answer.
But she curled closer, as if her body believed me before her mind ever could.
I woke up maybe two hours later, still dark, still raining.
Her side of the bed was empty.
Panic hit me faster than air.
"Aurora?"
I sat up fast, scanning the dim room. I heard something from the kitchen. A mug clinking.
I followed the sound barefoot, heart hammering like a lunatic, even though i knew she wouldn't just leave.
She was standing by the small counter, wearing my hoodie now, sleeves covering her hands. Pouring hot water into a mug.
"Couldn't sleep?" I asked gently.
She turned, her face soft in the low light. "Didn't mean to wake you."
"You didn't," I lied, walking toward her. "But you scared the hell out of me."
Her mouth twitched upward. "Sorry. I was just craving tea."
I took the mug from her hands, set it down. Then pulled her into me.
Her face met my chest.
"I need to know you're beside me when i wake up," I said quietly.
She didn't move away.
Just let herself sink into me.
"Sometimes i feel like this is all temporary," she whispered. "Like the world's going to break in again. Any second."
"I'll kill anyone who tries," I said without hesitation. "You're not losing me. Not now. Not ever."
She looked up, eyes glassy but strong. "That sounds like a promise."
"It is."
We stayed in the kitchen for a while.
She sat on the counter.
I leaned between her legs, arms around her waist. She sipped her tea, handing it to me now and then. Shared silence.
It didn't feel heavy.
It felt needed.
"I miss who i was before this," she murmured eventually.
I kissed her shoulder. "You're still her."
"No, I'm... changed." Her voice cracked slightly. "Every time i hear my phone buzz, I flinch. Every knock at the door, I think it's my last."
I cupped her face, made her look at me.
"You're the strongest person i know," I said. "You've been through hell. And you're still here. That means something, Aurora."
She closed her eyes, letting her forehead rest against mine. "I don't want to be strong anymore."
"You don't have to be," I whispered. "Not with me."
By sunrise, we were back in bed. Not to sleep. Not to escape.
But just to hold each other in the warmth.
She ran her fingers through my hair while i traced slow lines down her spine. We talked about nothing. And everything.
Favorite films.
The places we wanted to visit. What we'd name a dog if we ever got one.
"What about a cat?" she asked, teasing.
"I'm allergic," I groaned.
She laughed for real. "Of course you are."
"I'll still suffer through it if you really want one."
"I don't," she whispered. "I just wanted to hear what you'd say."
The day passed slow. No TV. No calls. Just soft music and food we reheated from the fridge.
She stole all my hoodies.
I let her.
When she fell asleep again that afternoon, curled up with her legs tangled in mine, I knew this wouldn't last.
The stillness. The pause.
We'd go back out there again soon. Fight. Search. Run.
But for now?
For now, she was mine.