"How is she?" Abe asked as John stepped out of her bedroom. 

He glanced across the room, not even really looking at her or Mike sitting beside her on the sofa. He barely even registered that Abe had arrived at some point while he'd been in the bedroom with Marlena. 

All he could see was her, the nasty bruises on her arm and face, and her wet cheeks. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. 

Anger. 

So fucking gutted. 

​

He'd never felt like this, as if his entire world threatened to crumble around him. The pain was so much worse than when he realized he had no memory of his past. Then, he hadn't understood how hard life would be with the crushing weight of guilt hanging over his head. Now he knew. 

And he couldn't deal with the fact that mere hours ago, he'd almost lost the one thing that had brought light into his life.

Knowing that she'd been hurt because of him destroyed something inside of him. And she kept apologizing for agreeing to meet with him a few nights ago. Right up until the pain medication Mike had given her kicked in. 

He hadn't known what to do to make her drop it. 

He wanted to yell at her and tell her to stop. 

To please stop before she killed him. 

To hold her and tell her that none of it was her fault.

 

He wanted to go back in there and hold her, feel her heart beating against him until he felt rational. So many different urges tore at him, ripping him to shreds, and he couldn't deal with any of them. Leaving her in the bedroom with Lexie to watch over her was torture, but he couldn't be in there right now. He couldn't see those bruises on her or hear her whimpering his name in her sleep and not lose his mind entirely. 

"Thank God you arrived when you did, partner."

"Roman woke up and, he talked," Abe said when he didn't answer his first question. 

John spun toward him.

"John, you need to sit down." 

"Fuck that." He was tired of people telling him to sit down, to calm down, to do this, to do that, or that it could have been worse. Did they honestly think he wasn't aware of how much worse it could have been?

Did they honestly believe the ‘how much worse’ wasn't running through his mind on a loop and had been since the instant he'd realized Roman had her? 

 

"What did he say?" 

Silence.

"Tell me." 

"You don't want to know." 

"Abe, don't fuck with me," he warned. "Just tell me." 

Abe glared at him, and then gave in with a sharp curse. John listened, getting angrier by the minute as his friend relayed Roman's story in monotones. 

 

"Fuck," he roared, slamming his fist into the wall. The plaster crumbled. "Fuck!" 

"Partner," Abe came at him, his hands up as if trying to placate him. His lips were pressed into a grim line. "Don't." He reached out and grabbed John's arm before he could hit the wall a second time. "You'll break your hand." 

 

"Screw my hand." John whipped his head toward Abe. 

"Partner, he said he–" 

He couldn't say the words. 

 

Fuck, he couldn't even think the words without parts of his soul breaking. The thought of anyone touching Marlena like that, of anyone, even thinking about touching her like that…there were no words to describe the type of pain he felt right then. 

 

He was going to kill Roman. 

Today, tomorrow, five years from now. 

One day, he would cut the motherfucker's cock off as painfully as humanly possible and shove it down his throat. 

 

Whether Roman had really planned to kill Marlena or not didn't matter. He would die for even thinking about it. 

Slowly. 

Painfully. 

Until he screamed for mercy. And there would be none. "I'm going to kill him," he said, heat and promise radiating in his voice. "That won't solve anything," Abe spoke into the hollow silence that followed.

 

"We need to figure out how to proceed." 

"How to proceed? We arrest him is how we proceed, Abe."

Abe's expression blanked. "John, listen to me, man." 

"No!" He ripped his arm out of his hold, his fists clenching again. He already knew what Abe was going to say.

"He kidnapped her, Abe, abused her! The son of a bitch pulled a gun on her for choosing me over him, and you want me to let it go? Fuck that!" 

"Roman is still a cop. There are procedures that need to be taken, John. You know we can't," Abe answered calmly. 

 

"Bullshit," he yelled. "He admitted it!" 

"I know he did! But that's not what I meant." Abe held his hands up. 

"Then what the hell do you mean, Abe? Because I fail to see what the holdup is. Everyone knows he did it. And you're saying we pretend it didn't happen? He. Kidnapped. Her. He. Raped. He. What part of that aren't you understanding?" 

 

Jesus Christ.

 

His whole body shook with rage.

The only thing stopping him was the memory of the look in Marlena’s eyes tonight after he unleashed his rage on Roman’s face when he found them, a breath away from her death. 

 

Abe snapped. "Look, officer Logan is going through whatever else he can find in the crime scene. Give me until Sunday, and we can take him down. For all of it. He messed up, John. You just have to give us time to connect it all together, find that evidence, and cement the entire case." 

"Right, because looking for the lab has worked so well for us thus far," John sneered, his eyes closed in sheer agony. 

 

"Three days, John. Give me three days," Abe looked at him, his voice quiet but firm. 

"I'll think about it," he roared.

"Do more than think about it." 

"Or what, Abe? She's in there, bruised all to hell because this twisted fucking psycho told her he would kill me if she didn't sleep with him. It's my fault." He took a deep breath, trying to find a thread of calm through the furor in his mind. "And you're asking me to wait and hope they find something in the crime scene? That's bullshit, and you know it." 

"I'm not asking you, John. I'm telling you that you are not going in there yourself. You will wait until I tell you otherwise." Abe glared, his jaw clenched and his arms crossed. "If you don't, I will arrest you for disruption of investigative processes. That's not a threat." he finished, making it clear he wasn't bluffing. 

Not that John doubted him. 

 

This shit had become too personal for him, and everyone knew it. He'd have done the same exact thing if he were in Abe's shoes. But he wasn't in Abe's shoes. And it wasn't Abe's reason for being sitting there with vicious bruises on her body and tears staining her face. 

If it'd been Lexie, he knew damn well that Abe wouldn't let it run its course. "You do what you need to do," he finally answered. "And I'll do what I need to do. But I promise you, I'm not waiting three days, and he is not walking away from this. I don't give a fuck if I have to kill him myself, Abe. He isn't walking away." 

 

"John, no!" Marlena's cry echoed from behind them. He turned to find her and Lexie standing side by side in the doorway. For a split second, he glared at her, not really seeing her there at all. All he could see was Abe's stony expression. As the naked fear stamped across her pale face finally registered through the dim haze of anger, his expression softened. She looked so lost, so afraid. He didn't know how to fix that. All he could do was promise that Roman—wouldn't have the chance to come at her once more. 

And he wouldn't. 

Not if he had anything to say about it. 

 

She shook her head as he approached and took a step backward, away from him. 

"Don't," she said, her voice a thin whisper. 

"Doc." 

"Don't," she repeated and took another step back. He stopped advancing toward her, his chest aching when she continued backing away from him as if frightened. As soon as he stopped moving, she stopped, too. It killed him to realize she was afraid. 

"Doc," he said a second time, not really sure what to say. 

"No." She shook her head. "No, you can't do this." 

"I can do this," he corrected. "I can, and I will." 

"I won't let you," she whispered, blinking rapidly as tears filled her eyes. He wanted, desperately, to cross the remaining distance between them and pull her into his arms, but she'd told him no. 

 

That hurt more than he would have believed possible. Not that he could blame her for not wanting him to touch her. 

Now that she was through the shock, he wouldn't blame her even when she told him she never wanted to see him again. The bruises on her arm, her red-rimmed eyes, the tear tracks on her cheeks…every bit of her pain was his fault. He'd promised her that he'd keep her safe; fucking swore to her that she wouldn't be hurt. How could she forgive him for failing her? 

Why would she? 

 

"It's not your choice, Marlena," he said, far more calmly than he felt. Inside, he was dying. "It's mine, and I've already made it." 

"You aren't a murderer, John." 

He might as well be. His past was a blur, but he had visions, they were red, too red. How many other innocent people would have to die because of him? 

How many people like Marlena had to suffer?

 

"This isn't right," she said, her bottom lip trembling. "None of this is right." 

"When was it ever?" he asked quietly. Her eyes met his and then shifted away, focusing over his shoulder. He wanted her to argue with him, and tell him to stop being stupid. Wanted her to reassure him that they were fine, and that she wouldn't learn to hate him for this. But she didn't. 

She couldn't even look at him. 

 

"I need to speak to John. Alone," she announced, her voice trembling. Guilt flickered in her expression, as if she knew she was about to break his heart and regretted having to do it. 

"Of course," Abe drawled. "We're going to…." 

He didn't finish the sentence. 

"Thank you." She nodded before turning back to John, her face a careful mask. He wanted to beg her to tell him what she was thinking, but he couldn't find the will to open his mouth. Maybe he was a complete coward, but he didn't want to hear her say that she was leaving him. 

 

He never should have believed he could ever be good enough for her. She hadn't even said anything yet, and he already felt eviscerated. How the hell was he supposed to deal when she walked out of his life? 

How long did he have left? An hour? Less? 

 

The door closed with a startling ring of finality as everyone left, leaving them alone for the first time in more hours than he cared to count. Any other time, he would have welcomed the silence. 

He didn't this time. 

She didn't make a move toward him, didn't open her mouth. 

For a long minute, she stared at him. 

The silence tortured him. If this were the end, he'd rather get it over with now than keep waiting in limbo. 

He wanted a clean blow. 

Maybe then his mind would stop racing, trying to imagine the rest of his life without her. Maybe that's what they both needed. 

A clean blow. 

"John, I–" 

"You're leaving," he said, hating the way his voice cracked on the words. Just saying them…God, he wasn't going to survive this. 

 

"What?" She blinked at him. 

He was too caught up in his own mind to respond, in analyzing what he should have done, could have done, in everything that would have made this different, made it hurt less. Except he couldn't do any of that now. All he could do was let her go, and hope Roman wouldn’t find a way to get to her ever again.

 But that didn't matter. 

So long as she didn't blame herself, that was all that mattered. 

"Promise me you'll take care of yourself," he whispered hoarsely. 

"John–" 

"Promise me," he demanded. Before he could do what he had to do, he had to know she would be okay. She was the only thing that mattered. 

God, he loved her. 

 

Marlena stared at him, her heart breaking at the tortured expression on his face. She'd only thought he looked broken earlier. She knew better now. He seemed completely torn apart, as if somewhere between the time she'd fallen asleep an hour ago and waking up to him and Abe yelling at one another, he'd lost everything.

Lost himself. 

How could he ever think she'd leave him? 

"John, I'm not going anywhere," she said, tears leaking from her eyes. 

"I promised to keep you safe, Doc, and I didn't. I failed–" 

"I'm not going anywhere." 

"I'm so sorry, Doc. So fucking–" He shook his head back and forth as his voice broke. "You were so brave, and I–" 

"John! Listen to me!" she shouted, desperate to get through to him. He blinked at her, his mouth still open as if he intended to say something else. "I'm not going anywhere," she repeated. "I'm not leaving. Not ever. Why would you think that? How could you…?" She couldn't finish the question, couldn't ask him how he could think so little of her to believe she blamed him for Roman. Because she knew it wasn't her he didn't have faith in. 

It was himself. 

 

He didn't think he deserved to be loved, didn't think he deserved her. And that was a damn tragedy, because no one deserved love more than he did. 

"I love you, John," she told him. "Don't you get that? I love you." 

"Doc, I–" He broke off, bowing his head. 

She crossed to him as a low, broken groan fell from his lips, and wrapped her arms around his waist, burrowing into his hard chest. For a long, intolerable minute, he stood there, not touching her. His courage came back once more and he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair on another broken groan. 

"I love you," she said as he hugged her hard, his breath coming in sharp inhalations and shuddering exhalations. 

"I love you." She chanted it over and over, trying to make him believe it as he fell apart in her arms. 

"Oh God, baby," he whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." 

 

Her tears soaked his shirt as they clung to one another. "I'm so fucking sorry," he groaned, finally lifting his head to look at her. His eyes were dry, but the overwhelming guilt lingering in their depths sent another wave of pain through her. 

 

"It's not your fault, baby." How was she supposed to make him understand that? He hadn't forced her to meet Roman. He hadn't been the one to drag her away. She was a big girl. She made her own decisions, her own choices, and she'd chosen her path. She'd chosen him. 

 

"It is my fault," he argued, brushing away her tears. The tender action tugged at the ragged edges of her heart. "You wouldn't have been there if it weren't for me. You wouldn't have been hurt." Another shudder raced through him, causing his hands to tremble where he cupped her face. "He was going to kill you, Marlena." 

"And he failed," she pointed out, her voice a gentle murmur. "Because we got lucky. If you and Abe hadn't been there ...." 

"But he was there, John. He was there because you did everything you could to make sure I would be safe when I went in there tonight, exactly like you have every other night we've been together. You didn't know he had planned this. You couldn't know."

"I should have known." 

"Stop," she demanded, placing her fingers over his lips. "Just stop. I’ll be okay…." 

"You're not okay." He reached out and grabbed her arm in a gentle vise, lifting it carefully. She grimaced as she caught sight of the angry, swollen bruises ringing her upper arm like a bracelet. "This isn't fine! He could have killed you. He–" His expression crumbled. 

 

Her stomach roiled at the thought of what Roman did to her but she forced the nausea back, refusing to dwell on the subject. Roman wouldn't get near her anytime soon. John simply needed to give Abe time to get things together so they could put him away. 

 

"He did…." She pulled her arm away from him and placed her hand on his chest, over his pounding heart. "And now you have a real chance to take him down, just like you wanted." "You think I wanted this?" A harsh laugh of disbelief burst from his lips. 

She grimaced, cursing herself for her poor choice of words. "That's not what I meant." 

"No?" he asked and then paced away from her, the fight leaving him. "Christ, Marlena, I never wanted this. All I wanted, all I could see, was you. You're all I've been able to see from day one. You consumed me. And now–" He exhaled sharply. "And now…." 

 

"And now what?" she whispered the question, her heart lodged in her throat at the way he said it, as if something had changed for him. As if he no longer felt the same, no longer wanted her the same way. 

"And now it's over," he said, turning back to her. His expression was blank, the walls she'd so recently toppled once more firmly in place. "I can't…I can't do this anymore." 

 

He stared at her for a while. She darted her eyes up at the bedroom door closing behind her, and hoped everyone had gone for the night. She needed the constant reminder of what transpired toning to stop. Then maybe what happened wouldn't be so bad. 

He lingered. 

Stretching the moment out, his chin tucked down as he burnt her with his intense eyes, glowing in the night like a mountain lion. 

“John...please…” she stammered. 

It was arbitrary. 

She didn’t think it'll help her, but she said it anyway. 

 

Then she did something. 

This wasn’t a standoff. 

This wasn’t a battle. 

This was acceptance. 

 

Acceptance that needed to go both ways. She reached out her hand, not looking up. Hoping he'll accept. That her demands were humble, not defiant, she waited, but there was nothing. Just as she began to drop her arm, a rough, soaked hand clenched it. 

 

She gasped in shock. 

Terror and relief wrestled inside of her, unsure of what this meant. She looked up, and her gaze met his as he pulled her to him. Her eyes shot down to the gun from earlier tonight in his other hand, and she recoiled instinctively. He looked down at it, and back up at her, dragging her closer to the bed. He plunged it into the holster, before slamming her up against the hard exterior of the bedroom. 

 

His face inches away from hers, he opened his dark, dilated eyes; they were vacant of any life. Black pools stared down at her as she finally realized, he was blaming himself.

“I’m doing this…” he muttered against her lips, his eyes lowered to her wounds “to save you.” 

 

Grasping her face between his tired hands, he pressed his mouth to hers. A spiteful kiss laced with rage and surrender. Tasting of blood and perspiration. But he pulled the kiss away as powerfully as he thrust it on her when they made love.

John grabbed her gown, finding a small tear and ripped it open. He wiped a hand clean on the fabric. 

She gasped. Loudly.

 

John finished ripping her dress open, so that the hot night air breathed on her humid skin, and he ran his mouth along her torso, leaving a scattered trail of comfort wherever he touched her. The smell of iron and sweat crawled up her nose. She curled her fingers into his hair.

 

She backed up, taking sharp, impatient breaths. 

“John…”

His hard chest pushed against hers again. She reached her hand to wipe away a stray tear. He let his jeans fall to the floor, so he was just a man—skin, hair, muscle, sweat. 

The man she needed tonight.

Without wasting a second, he grabbed her, dragging her into his arms. It was so fast, but she saw a trail of blood trailing from her open wound, where Roman’s earlier violence must lay. He showed her onto a pile of pillows on the bed. 

 

“I want to see your body,” he grunted. “I want to see what he did to you.”

 

She took a step backwards as he grabbed her, laying her down onto the mattress. 

“I have to…I have to touch you, I have to-” 

 

She turned her head to stare right into him. There was something else in his eyes. She took in the heated look she saw in his pale blues. How his arms flexed with his sure movements as he continued to stare at her. She couldn't fight the need any longer. 

“John.” 

A fear notched the corner of his mouth up. The way his features shifted, so roughly, she shivered. He leaned in, pushing his body fully against hers. 

“Say it, tell me to fuck you” he whispered in her ear. 

She swallowed her erratic heartbeat. “John I-.” 

He bit down on her shoulder, eliciting a cry from her, as he slipped his cock between her slit, but not entering. 

 

He pulled back just as quickly. 

His movements painful on her body after those few days. 

He forced his way in. 

It was not gentle. 

He let her scream as he opened her up, his first thrust slow. And just as he stilled, he pumped harder, pulling her hair like he was riding a horse. He grunted and groaned as he plowed into her. 

 

Marlena moaned in pain.

Pain.

So much pain.

 

Pulling out some, his mouth at her ear, he said, “Tell me to stop, Marlena.” she cursed silently. “Tell me to stop,” he said again. 

She’d told him that he could never hurt her, and yet there he was hurting her in all sorts of ways. He was forcing her to tell him yes or no. Whichever answer she gave him, she would either be asking him to stop or asking him to fuck her. He was forcing her to set the limit. He was punishing himself for what he couldn't stop. 

 

He was forcing her to either move on or not.

 

“I said, tell me to stop,” he repeated. 

The trickiest part of it all was that even while he was telling her what to say, she knew what he really wanted her to choose. And while that would normally be what she automatically chose—to let him do this, to not stop him—what happened earlier had put a different frame on anything she chose for him to do versus something she let him do. 

 

He was waiting for her to respond. 

“Say it.” 

His cock was halfway in, impossibly big against her. “You’re choosing this,baby. If you don’t stop me, this is your choice.” 

 

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in and out.

 

Concentrate on relaxing, Marlena. 

 

He pressed deeper into her, slower than when he usually drove inside her, but by no means gently. His crown hit the point of resistance, and, without pausing to let her adjust, he pushed past it. His fingernails digging at the flash of her shoulders.

 

She gasped from the pain, tears leaking down her cheeks. 

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” John taunted. “I know it does. Tell me to stop, fight me” He thrust in farther. 

 

Pain seared through her, waking every nerve in her body. It hurt—so much—she wasn't ready, but she couldn’t stop him, whoever he was at that moment. This hurt, but it hurt good. It hurt, and she knew what she’d chosen. 

 

It hurt, and she would still choose this. It was nothing like what happened to her.

“Tell me—” 

“Don’t stop!” she cried. 

 

As soon as she said it, as soon as she chose, he was different; she wasn’t sure how. He stilled, letting her get used to him as he lay over her, she could feel the warmth of his breath in her ear. 

“I won’t stop, Doc,” he said, stroking her wet cheek. “I’m not going to stop. I will never. Stop.” More tears spilled, less from pain now and more from emotion.  

He scooted back to his knees and urged her up to all fours. By the time he had her in the position he wanted, she’d adjusted to him, which was good. 

He dug his fingers into her hips and pulled back slowly, pulled back like the car of a roller coaster trekking to the peak. And then he was over the crest, plunging back in with speed, his hips thrusting with wild abandon. 

“Oh goddddd…” She screamed through gritted teeth, balling her hands in the pillow below her as the pain tore through her, lighting the nerves on the opposite wall. 

 

It was agony, but as it stretched and yawned, it reshaped, transforming into overwhelming ecstasy. It grew like a ball of fire in her lower regions, the source no longer identifiable. It was almost impossible to tell what parts of her were even being touched. Because everything felt touched. 

Then he reached around to press a finger against her clit, and she exploded, bucking underneath him as every single neuron in her body shot off like dynamite. 

It was too much. 

Too much, everywhere, all at once. 

Rainbow-colored stars flashed across her vision; goosebumps rippled over every inch of her skin. John said words as he chased his own orgasm, dirty words, words of praise, curse words, words she didn’t understand or remember just as he let out a powerful moan, his cock pulsating within hers. His fullness and the reverberating echoed her orgasm. He rolled off of her and onto his back. 

Something has changed. 

 

His eyes were warm again. 

His body was not so rigid. She knew better than to expect him to say anything, so she did. On her knees, she turned to face him. He looked up at her inquisitively. 

“You’re not to blame,” she said one more time, before lying beside him, facing him in the fetal position. He didn’t react for the first few seconds, still tentative. But then he slid closer, reaching his arm underneath, and pulling her in close. 

 

He ran her fingers along the warm skin of her arm. He trailed along until his finger stopped at the gaping wound, and then another. 

“Marlena…” he languished. 

Roman hurt her so many times. 

“I’m sorry.” he said with no sound.

“We need to take care of these. They opened up, I’m sorry…" 

She ignored his last comment.  

"Lexie can stitch me up again tomorrow morning- “

“Doc, I need to find a way to stop him for good... and we need to talk about what happened.”

It took her time to answer, which was to be expected. She took a deep breath and looked at him, after all this time, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. “Leave it, John…”

“What did he do to you?” 

She could barely look in his eyes, but she couldn’t miss the concern in them.

 

Their eyes met in the darkness, she knew what he meant. Something passed between them with that small sigh she took. It made it easier for her to say what came next. 

 

“He kept talking about our past, about how I will never see you again. The last time he touched me —” The grabbed his gun and snapped it in his hand. The material scratched his palm.

He moved so swiftly he was a blur, wrapping a torn fabric from his shirt around his palm before it dripped blood. She scrambled to his side. 

“Did you cut yourself? Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, Doc,” he bit out. He stood up and threw the gun onto the sofa.

Her hands shook. 

She heard the bathroom’s door opening and closing. A few minutes later, John returned with a small water glass he had found on the counter. 

“Sit down, Doc.” 

She stared at him. His frame was rigid, his eyes icy cold. He scrubbed a hand over his face and said more gently, “Sit down . . . please.” 

 

Her weakened knees gave out, and she sat on the edge of the bed, pulling the gown down around her. John remained standing, taking a large swallow. 

“You said the last time. How many times were there?” she took conscious breaths, trying to calm herself. 

“I don’t know. I was there for a few days...” 

“That son of a b-”

 

She tried to swallow past a tight, dry throat and winced at the painful sandpapery burn. When her voice came again, it was barely a whisper. 

“John...there's no way you could have known. He planned on killing me tonight if you hadn’t found me..” 

“Jesus Christ.” His chest heaved. “He isn’t just fucked up; he is insane. And he rapedyou.... Oh, God, Marlena.” 

 

She went on numbly, staring at her injured wrists. She just wanted to get it over with, to get it all out so she could put it back into the box in her mind where she forgot about it. 

A teardrop dropped into her water glass. You can’t see tears in the water.

He kept quiet and took the heavy glass from her shaky hand and set it on the nightstand with a hollow thud. 

“I’m sorry, baby” he whispered, feeling like he might be sick. 

“I’m scared.” 

“Don’t be,” he snapped, vibrating with rage. “I will get to the bottom of this and Roman will pay, I don’t care how long it takes, but he will pay.” 

“John—” 

“I would destroy the man who did this to you.” He was so cold with fury; he was icy. “I’m going to get the monster who hurt you, Marlena, and I’m going to make him wish he were dead.” 

 

A shiver moved through her because she believed him. 

It was in his face. 

His voice.

In the energy he exuded, and his sharp focus. He wasn’t just dark and dangerous in his looks. John was a man who got what he wanted, whatever it took. 

 

She pushed to her feet. “He’s not worth the effort. Not worth your time.” 

“You are. You’re worth it. Damn it. Goddamn it!” She moved closer to the end of the room, needing the space and night air.

 

She mattered to him. 

And he wanted her. 

Desperately. 

"Look at me." She pumped her fist, trying to conceal it within her gown, her gaze riveted to the sight of her hand wrapped around herself. 

“You’re scared, I know…” He groaned, but his eyes didn't open. She shifted her position to the couch, licked her lips. 

"Look at me." 

Her eyes flew to his direction. 

"Oh, God," she cried out when he took her lips his mouth as soon as his eyes met hers. His hips surged forward, pinning her to the soft couch.. She relaxed, kissing him in as long as she could until she gagged and had to ease back. Moaning. 

"I will do whatever I can to keep you safe." His hands came up and found purchase in her hair. 

 

"Marlena," he breathed as she rested her cheek on his forehead. Her eyes were closed. She sniffled, unable to stop herself. His eyes flew open and landed on her. Horror washed across his face. "No, baby. Oh God, no," he said as she bit her lip to keep from sobbing out loud. He reached for her, yanking her off the couch and into his arms as another sob bubbled out. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

 

She buried her head into his neck, shuddering as he rocked her in his arms, apologizing over and over. "Stay with me, John, don’t go after him. I can't. I won't leave a life without you." 

"I can't lose you, Doc. I can't go through that anymore." 

"It's over, John." She lifted her face to look at him. "It's over and -”

“And I'm here” she cut him off “…and with time, I will heal. But don't blame yourself, please. You are not to blame for his mental state." 

 

She breathed, the heartache she'd refused to feel earlier hitting her. "I want to keep you safe. God, I do…and I love you. So much, I can't think straight. I can't breathe–" He broke off with a shake of his head. 

"I don't know what to do," he whispered, fear flashing through his eyes. 

"Love me, John. Just love me like you promised," she said, not sure how else to put them back together. This is what they were together. This is what they had always been. He needed to remember that. Right then, so did she.

 

END