A/N: Just a little scene that came to me. If you haven't seen the finale "Crimson hat" this won't make much sense to you. Go and watch it, you won't be disappointed!
One day
The door was unlocked and they stepped in, both wearily taking the necessary steps to escape the reality outside of the door.
She shrugged her jacket off and dropped it on a chair on her way to the kitchen. He came to a standstill, his hands in his pockets, head bowed, his shoulders hunched.
It was dark in the room, but she knew her way around her own home and soon emerged from the kitchen with brewing coffee scent wafting behind her.
He didn't look up, but just wavered slightly on his feet.
She came to stand before him, her eyes tired, sad and hurt, but also concerned, caring and worrying.
He didn't want to look at her, look at the pain that was his doing, look at the broken promise he had made long ago when he had promised a dying man that he would look after her.
She silently studied him, seeing the physical pain and discomfort and the shame and guilt that were coming off in waves, now that they were hidden from any prying eyes.
She sighed softly and took his hand like he had taken hers in the deserted street some hours ago; by sliding her hand down his arm so he didn't have any other option than to take his hand out of his pocket and let her envelope his larger hand with her smaller fingers.
He took comfort in the warmth of her hand like he had done earlier in the day, but he still refused to look at her.
She tiredly shuffled towards the stairs and he followed her lead. He would follow her wherever she wanted to take him, at least he owed her that much.
She led him in the darkness to her bathroom, lighted a candle on the window sill and took out a towel from under the sink while he stood uncertain at the door.
Now he looked at her, studied her drawn face, seeing the dark circles and worry lines that marred her beautiful face, so tired that she was unconscious, or uncaring, of his eyes on her.
When she turned back to him, she found him staring at her, silently standing still, an anguished look on his face. She silently stared back at him, took a step closer and gently peeled his jacket off of his shoulders leaving him to stand in front of her just in his dress shirt and trousers. The lack of vest made him suddenly feel naked.
She folded the jacket on the closed lid of a toilet seat and pointed at the shower with her chin.
He understood and nodded, started to unbutton his shirt.
She left him alone in the bathroom.
He undressed slowly as it was painful with all the bruises he had sustained, but eventually he managed to stand under the hot water in the shower. The flickering warm light of the candle made it seem somehow unreal and the silence of the house just added to the eerie feeling.
She was waiting for him outside the door when he emerged with aching muscles, clad only in the white towel that she had given him.
His hair was wet, plastered against his forehead, but he had otherwise dried himself off.
She once again took his hand and led him through the dark corridor to her bedroom, where she gently pushed him to sit down on the edge of the bed, while she lighted one candle on her night stand, its flickering light casting a warm glow on her features, taking his breath away.
She bent down to retrieve a box full of first aid equipment and set it down on the bed next to him with a pair of sweat pants and turned back to look at him and spoke with a quiet and tired voice for the first time since they had left the office.
"Let me see," she said stepping closer and skimming her warm fingers against his skin on his shoulders.
He closed his eyes and let her examine him, let her look at him without any deceptions, any falsehood, wincing whenever she found a sore spot.
She took his hands and pulled him up, to better able to inspect his back and the sensation of her gentle fingers with pain from the bruises made tears well up in his eyes and he bowed his head again as he tried to stay still.
Her fingers ghosted over his shoulders, down his spine, up and down both sides and gently prodded his kidneys, which made him clench up in pain. He missed her touch when her fingers left his skin, but soon they were back, massaging ointment on his sore back.
She turned him around and massaged the ointment also onto his front, completely focusing on her task and he let her as he closed his eyes in his effort not to show how much in pain he was.
Her fingers left him and he opened his eyes to see her packing all the things away and put the box down on the floor.
She turned around to find him quietly looking at her, the dampness evident in his eyes, but not yet falling. Before she could move, he took a step closer and took her into his arms, holding her tightly like he did before pretending to shoot her.
She wrapped her arms around his naked torso to his relief and hugged him back tightly. He had been afraid that she would struggle.
He eased his grip but didn't let her go as he looked down at her face in the candlelight.
Now it was his turn to speak.
"I meant what I said," he hoarsely whispered.
Her eyes widened slightly, but otherwise she gave no indication that the confession meant anything.
He lowered his face until his forehead was resting on hers and he took comfort in her warm, solid presence, her arms still tightly around him.
"But I'm not ready," he continued quietly as he opened his eyes again and moved his head back to look at her.
She was looking at him with tired eyes that betrayed her hurt and her love as she closed them to avoid drowning in him as she responded, "I know."
He rested his forehead again against hers and then she felt them; hot tears falling from his eyes, freely, unashamed as he finally wept.
She slowly moved him towards the bed, so he had to sit, but still he wept. His eyes tightly closed, his whole body shaking with his sobs.
She cradled his head against her shoulder as she remained standing and tightly held him against her as her own tears finally were freed from her control.
His sobs dried in the end, freeing him to embed in his mind the memory of her holding him tightly, gently stroking his wet hair and his bare shoulders as he kept his arms circled tightly around her waist.
He moved his head slightly so he could smell her, could feel the soft skin on her neck and face and finally he looked up.
Her lovely face was wet with tears and exhaustion was making her tremble, barely making her able to stand. He reluctantly stood up and reached for the sweat pants that she had brought him, making her to take a step back, turning around and heading towards the door.
He reached out and settled a hand on her shoulder to stop her. She kept her back turned as he pulled the sweat pants on and threw the wet towel onto a chair. He took a step closer and slowly and gently, in trying not to startle her, wrapped his arms around her and held her close to his chest.
She lifted her hands to rest on his arms but made no other move.
He slowly led her to the bed, removed the covers and slipped underneath them while holding her hand and inviting her to follow.
She was exhausted and ached for the comfort of him next to her after so many months of worry so she quietly slipped next to him ending up on her side facing him.
His fingers ghosted against her cheek as her eyes closed and she started drifting off to sleep.
She was barely aware of the feel of his soft lips on hers in a gentle kiss and the last thing she heard before the sleep claimed her, was his soft voice.
"One day."
The end