The drugs and the warmth of the water, the feeling of him pressed against her, the inhale and exhale of his breath, the softness of his hair through her fingers. For a few minutes there isn't anything else and she's utterly calm. Not frozen, not empty, just calm. The difference manages to be somehow both subtle and immense at the same time. She's always safe when they are alone in their home. Nothing touches them here. No one watches them here. And this moment is no different even with his bruises and the long, neat row of stitches down the side of her face. Nothing else can touch them here.

She wasn't expecting him to speak and it makes her heart pound. Just once. That kind of kick that feels like it should be loud enough for someone else to hear. She thinks at any other time his words would make her cry or kiss him hard enough to make them both forget everything but each other. Right now they only make her hold him tighter. They only make her tired.

"You didn't lose me, John. You didn't." Her fingers scrape gently against his scalp the way she knows he likes. The way she knows can sometimes lull him to sleep. "I love you and we didn't lose."