He finds her on the roof. He can't help but be pleased to know that even after all the time spent apart, he still knows her better than anyone. One of her favorite things about the Bus had been being able to see the sky; the roof is the closest thing at the Playground.
"He's alive," is all he says, stopping a few feet away. He wants to sit next to her, be close to her, but knows not to. Not right now.
She doesn't say anything, but he catches the way her shoulders loosen. From where he's standing behind her, he wonders how exhausted she must be. She looks like someone who has been worn down to her core. He knows the past few days are far cry from the peaceful months she spent away. Now she's probably missing them. That makes him sadder than he wants to admit.
"We managed to get there in time," he continues, moving closer. "He's at a safe house now with some agents."
Again, nothing. He hates this. This space between them. He hasn't seen her in months, and this is how they return to each other. Earlier he said it was like she had never left, but that isn't true. At least not right now.
He loiters for a moment more before turning to leave. He's taken one step before he hears her quiet voice, the one he's missed so much.
"Thank you."
He turns back and studies her silhouette against the darkening sky. He can sense what she's feeling and knows it's nothing good.
"Stop beating yourself up." Her shoulders tense again. Right on the mark. "This isn't your fault."
"I know it's not."
"Do you?"
She moves her head slightly to the left, as if watching him from the corner of her eye. He stays still, waiting to hear her response.
"He was put in danger because of what he was to me," she says, her voice almost inaudible over the wind. He walks closer just so he can catch it. "It's that simple."
He isn't stupid enough to miss the past tense, but he lets it slide. Instead, he looks thoughtfully up at the sky before answering.
"If you were captured tomorrow," he started, focusing back on her, "because of what you are to me, would it be my fault?"
She shakes her head. "That's not fair."
"It's not?" He moves even closer. Any further and he'll walk right into her. "Sounds like the same situation to me. So is it my fault?"
She's quiet, staring out over the landscape before them. Far off in the distance is a city. Its lights are twinkling, like a beacon calling someone home. It's beautiful when paired with the dark sky.
"I know it's not my fault," she says, and this time she sounds like she means it.
"He's safe now, and that's all that matters."
She nods and looks down. Silence falls over them, the only sound being the wind. Time for him to go. He starts to move away again, but like before, her voice stops him.
"Stay."
He hesitates, half-turned away. "Are you sure?"
Her left hand drifts out and touches the empty spot next to her. He sits down and tries not to get too excited at the fact that she's there, right next to him.
"I'm sorry I was away for so long," she says.
"It's okay. I know you needed the time."
"Did you think I was coming back?"
He ponders his response. "I hoped you would, but I knew I couldn't be certain. The way we left things…"
She shakes her head. "Doesn't matter anymore."
"It doesn't? Because I'm pretty sure I still owe you an 'at length' apology."
He can see the beginnings of a smile on her face. It causes a happy glow in his stomach.
"And I'll accept it. But I've been away for so long, it doesn't hurt as much. And after today…" She sucks in a breath and takes a minute to compose herself. "I understand why people say you shouldn't waste time."
He wants to ask her so many questions. Why didn't things work out with you and Andrew? Why the past tense? What took you so long to come back? Are you here to stay?
He only asks the last one. She only hesitates for a second.
"Yes."
And for now, that's enough for him.