She's a mess, and his hands hadn't slipped her notice. The shower will give them both the first bit of breathing room they've had since the alarms had rung outside.

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It's knowing all the years she questioned her decision to leave, this could have been what she returned to. The house is still familiar. As soon as she tears herself away, she finds the closet he'd pointed her to, grabs a towel off the top of the stack, and digs for the first aid kit.

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they take care of each other after handling a disaster; it's his devastatingly green eyes, and the flush she feels remembering just how many times she'd lost herself in them. It's how close it all feels, like she could just reach for him again, the distance that stills her hand.

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"I-" Her fingers flutter around her open palm - a sign to give her a moment. "I missed you, Jack." His name, never finger-spelled, but the sign for "J" formed while the rest of her hand was in the sign of the horns. "I won't be long." It's the frustration.

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But maybe it's the same nervous tension shaking both of them, practically holding her own jaw shut. There were walls around each of them now, built over far too many years and bolstered by mutual anxiety.

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