"I would die for you," Stephen murmured quietly, brushing a lock of hair away from her face with trembling fingers. The small smile that pulled at her lips told him she wasn't sleeping as deeply as she pretended to.
"I know you would," she responded just as quietly. Her eyes fluttered open to look up at him in the darkness. Only the outline of his hair and face was visible in the absence of light. "But, you wouldn't kill for me."
"But I would not kill for you," he repeated firmly. His lips brushed against her forehead to relieve the sting that accompanied his words. "What happened earlier will never happen again. You nearly died because of your carelessness. I nearly died because of your carelessness."
She sighed heavily but didn't dispute. She had been very careless. The thrill of the fight had lit her on fire, leaving her to burn in its wake. A sloppy dodge would have landed her guts on the ground had Stephen not stepped between them. Though he had missed the worst of the damage, he'd still been bleeding, and she felt guilty. Guilty that she had not killed the man when she had the chance, instead of toying with him. Guilty that she let Stephen imprison him instead of finishing him off herself. But the past was the past and he was still lying next to her, showering her with love and affection.
"I would kill for you, Stephen," she whispered, brushing his hair away from his sweat covered forehead. She sat on the edge of the bed, watching as his face contorted deep in the throes of a nightmare. Her thoughts wandered the throat she had cut just earlier that day, a man that had thought to sneak up on the Sorcerer Supreme during his meditation. He had been so deep in his own mind that he'd completely missed the quiet gurgle of blood and the shuffle of clothing as she caught the dead body to pull it from the room.
Her first reaction would always be to kill. Time spent as a soldier, as an assassin, as an Avenger had assured that. She would never try to save him at the risk of dying herself. It just wasn't her way. Stephen began to thrash slightly in his sleep, muttering incoherently. By the time she could understand his words, she was already reaching for his shoulders to shake him awake.
But I would not die for you. The words hung silently in the air as he shot up in the bed, hands grabbing for her warmth. All he felt was the fading spot she had sat watching him. A small note card sat on the pillow next to his, embossed with his name. She was gone.