She was stuck in the world of in between. Not quite asleep, not quite awake. Fuzzy. She could hear voices but not make out the words. Sounds and smells but not make out the meaning.

Things slowly became clearer. She felt someone holding her hand. Even in the fuzziest moments, she knew that hand, large, callused and strong. A hand that was deadly, could fire a gun with accuracy to kill or defend in a fight. A hand that was soft, caressing the head of his newborn son or wiping the tears of his baby girl after a fall. She remembers the first time his hand was on her cheek for that first kiss so many years ago. She almost lost him shortly after that kiss but together they made it.

Things were clear now. She gently squeezed his hand. The sounds and smell of the hospital filled her mind. She had been shot. Again. A tear escaped. A hand came up and wiped the tear from her eye and she saw him smile.

She knew as long they had each other's hand, it would be fine.