Disclaimer: Not mine
Spoilers: Not a one.
A/N: Place this wherever you want to so it makes sense to you. Thanks to Julesy for the title.
He walked slowly across the tile floor, his shoes the only noise in the whole building. He needed to go home as it was getting late; too late for all the excuses he had come up with for being here. He could have turned around, left the building, jumped in his car and headed home. But he didn't. He let his feet carry him towards her office, not caring that she was most probably going to use that whiny voice while berating him for being there. But that didn't matter. She'd been through a lot this week, a lot he wished he could have stopped. She would be fine, she would heal, but right now, he didn't really trust that she would do that on her own. Right now, he felt like she needed him, whether she liked that or not. She would ask him what he was doing, she would say that she was fine, but he knew she would never send him away.
Quietly and slowly, he peeked into her office finding her laying on the couch. Her feet were closer to the door and she was facing the back of the couch, presumably so she could see anyone coming in the door. She looked up at him as he entered but didn't say anything, didn't even let herself silently communicate. She just was.
She looked so small laying there, so fragile and cold and he wanted to wrap himself around her and make the hurt go away. Just for a moment, to reinforce the fact that he was there, and he always would be. He crossed the room to her, leaning down to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She closed her eyes and let out a tired sigh and he let his finger run gently down her arm to her hand. She moved her hand slightly to hold his and he took that little gesture and ran with it, hoping she wouldn't do what he suspected she was going to.
Gracefully, he lowered himself down onto the couch behind her, slow enough that she could protest, but fast enough that she couldn't. She kept a hold on his hand while he settled himself, his joints stiff and sore and protesting the confined space of the couch. A small sigh escaped her lips when he tightened his grip on her, and he gave her a little more room, once again hoping that she would stay right where she was, let herself relax into it. They finally settled into a comfortable position, his arm around her waist and their feet tangled together.
He resisted the urge to nuzzle her hair, instead pressing his lips to the skin behind her ear. He wanted to say something, give her some reassurance, but there was nothing that he could think of that was good enough. She remained quiet as well, her fingers playing with his, running over his knuckles and nails. She turned his hand over and looked at his wrist, tracing over his tattoo with her thumb. She could feel his pulse beneath his skin and she closed her eyes, letting it beat as a metronome in her head, soothing her just as his voice did.
It could have been minutes or hours before either of them moved again, both their muscles unwilling to budge. Her body was lithe against his, and he knew that restfulness was not far away now. He let go of her hand and reached up to the back of the couch to pull the blanket down. Not wanting to disturb her too much, he tucked the blanket around her, and slowly left the couch. Her nose wrinkled at his departure and he was tempted to lay down again. But she needed to do this alone.
He would always be there, whenever she needed him and whenever she didn't, but he had to let her go sometimes too. Had to let her stand on her own feet as she had been doing for most of her life, because that independence was what made her who she was. It is what made being there for her all the more worthwhile.
Dropping a soft kiss onto her forehead and giving her hand one last squeeze, he righted himself and made his way out of her office, being sure to close the door behind him. Maybe next time she would call when she needed him, but tonight just knowing it was all either one of them needed.