A/N: Okay, so Holly asked for smut, and I'm a bit uninspired for anything dirty. I'm also a bit uninspired for anything fluffy that involves sex. So I did what I am inspired for – angst. And sex. For Holly. This is a huge mess – I'm jumping back and forth and I didn't give it a proper closure, but I feel like there isn't one, not within one story anyway. I am planning a squeal to this (as in chapter two), but no idea when I'll get around to it. Well, so you know the drill – I'm keen for comments. Thanks!

A Moment's Grace

Henry stood there. He was no longer sure for how long. Lost in his own thoughts, his own fears, he needed to just stand there and watch her. Watch how her thin body rose with each breath she took; how her eyes moved just slightly, and he knew she was dreaming. She was a vision, and she was still there, still breathing. On tiptoes, he walked over to Jason's bed. The room was silent but her breathing was still heavy, filling the space. Her hair, golden at the dim light coming from the hallway, scattered on the pillow. He smiled at the thought of how much Jason looked like her, how smart he was, just like her. He placed his hand on her shoulder, gentle, delicate. She opened her eyes, clear as the sky. She looked around her for a second, brushing the sleep away. Her eyes landed on his, comforting, loving. He offered her his hand and she nodded, slowly turning to get out of the bed. Following his lead, they entered their bedroom, and she soon found herself wrapped in his arms, the warmth of his body enveloping her. She let out a low moan, her face buried in his chest, inhaling the smell of him. He shifted, his eyes landing on hers. She opened her lips, inviting, asking. He didn't hesitate. Pressing his lips to hers, he kissed her slowly, moving in a rhythm they knew so well. He dared to push his tongue inside, to find hers as they dueled in her mouth, as a single moan escaped her mouth. Pulling away, his fingers grazed her cheek so lightly she shivered slightly at his touch.

"You're exhausted" he stated, his eyes scanning the tired features of her face. She never responded. Her hands moved on his chest, running on the fabric of his shirt. Looking down, she avoided his eyes, unwilling to let him read her. His fingers then tipped her chin, making her meet his gaze, the softness in his eyes. "Baby, talk to me, tell me".

She sighed, a low, heavy breath. "I'm tired of talking. I'm tired of thinking, of feeling. I'm just so tired, Henry. I don't want to talk about this, not tonight. Please. I just want to forget. Make me forget".

He nodded, a silent agreement. He wouldn't pursue her, she had to talk on her own terms, on her own will. And with the images still so vivid in her mind, he couldn't blame her for not wanting to talk, for needing to escape, if only for tonight. His hands began to move then, slow, so so slow. And gentle. As if afraid to break her, to harm her, to cause more damage than what has already happened. She watched him, examining each action, each move he made. He took her robe off, letting it fall to the floor. She shivered, goosebumps covering her skin as the air was suddenly so cold against her warm body. His hands moved to cover her arms, rubbing, warming. He kissed her ever so lightly, watching as her eyes remained closed, her lips slightly parted. Tugging at the hem of her shirt, he made her lift her arms, the bruises on her arms still noticeable, still so clear as the memories and the feelings. As the shirt reached the floor, his hands moved to her back, his fingers blindly tracing the newly added mark on her skin. Her eyes opened when he moved along the wound, the stitches were yet to come off. She didn't wince. It no longer hurt, she no longer felt it. It will now forever be just a memory, a reminder. He stepped closer to her, his mouth leaving a wet trail on her neck, his teeth nibbling gently at her skin. Her breath was heavy now, her hands moving to his waist to pull him closer to her. Her perked nipples rubbed against his shirt and a rusty moan escaped her mouth.

"Henry" she breathed, her fingernails digging into his skin as she longed for him to come closer.

He never looked up. His lips kept moving against her skin, burning. His hands still dancing on her back, light. Reaching for his hand, she guided him to her breast, begging wordlessly for his touch. But his hand rested carelessly against her skin, not daring to move. She move then, from his hold, from his kisses. Half naked, she stood in front of him, her eyes welled with tears that would soon slide down her cheeks. "You're not going to break me" she muttered, "I'm already broken".

He winced. Her words hit like a knife, right into his core. "You are perfect", his voice held authority, his touch still gentle as he pulled her back to his embrace.

"I'm anything but" the tears now streamed down her cheeks.

Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed the tears away, asking to kiss away her pain. "Not to me, you aren't". He pressed his lips to hers, his kiss more demanding now, needing to reassure her with his actions, rather than with his words. His tongue found its way inside, moving in her mouth. Her hands wrapped around him again, pulling her closer to him, groaning in his mouth to the feeling of their bodies pressed against each other. He began to move, slowly pushing her towards their bed, almost stumbling on their way. She let herself fall on her back the minute her legs reached the mattress, pulling him with her, making him fall on top of her.

Finally breaking their kiss as they both longed for air, he met her pleading eyes, broken. His reflected the same pain – the pain of almost losing her; the memory of their last night together. Almost, he thought, and a single tear formed at the corner of his eye.

"Hey, I came back" she trailed, reaching to wipe the tears.

"Barely" he whispered, swallowing hard.

"I'm here now", she said, I'm here with you, in this moment, the words almost left her mouth, but it felt dry.

He nodded. He was grateful. So so grateful. Taking her hand in his, he intertwined their fingers, resting them near her head. He nuzzled his nose against hers before pressing another gentle kiss to her now swollen lips. He then moved, kissing his way to her breasts, moving his tongue over the sensitive peak, rolling, twisting and then sucking. She hissed, arching her back to him, grinding her hips to his. His hand left hers, moving to cup her other breast, his fingers pinching her nipple gently. She moaned at the sensation, the feeling of her skin on fire under his delicate touch.

"Henry" she squirmed, pushing her hips to him, needing him to undo the tangle she felt between her legs. "Henry, please", her hand threaded in his hair, asking for his eyes to meet hers.

Glancing at her, he pressed her back to the bed, smiling just enough to promise her that he knows. His lips moved further down her body, kissing her abdomen, feeling the rise and fall of her quickening breath. His fingers hooked on the waistband of her pants, pulling it off with her panties as she lifted her body just enough. He settled back on top of her, moving his hands to caress the inside of her thighs, so close to where she needed him, spreading her legs open as he moved to rest between them. He took a deep breath, drinking in the scent of her arousal. His tongue moved to lick his way from her opening, up to her clit, making her cry out with pleasure. He had to close his eyes and take a deep breath at the sound of her, as it suddenly hit him that he thought he would never hear her like this ever again. Brushing all thoughts away, he opened his eyes to find her staring at him, her eyes begging for his touch, for her climax that was under his work. She read his face like an open book the minute their eyes met. She hated the sadness they conveyed, the pain. She too realized their last time together could've easily been their last time, and she had to swallow hard. But then his mouth was on her again, his tongue moving in skilled circles around her clit, sliding down to almost enter her. She covered her mouth with her hand to silence the sounds that escaped her mouth, desperate.

"Henry" she cried, her fingers threading in his hair, pulling as her orgasm was coming closer.

Taking her clit between his lips, he sucked it hard, feeling her twitch, her body jolting. "Henry, please" she tired again, pushing her hips to him. She needed more – more of him, of what he was offering. She needed to feel every part of him against her. He would bring her to completion with his mouth, she knew it. But it wouldn't be enough, not tonight.

He pushed a long finger inside of her, feeling her muscles contract at the sudden contact, wrapping around his finger, wet and warm. Still working his mouth, his finger moved slowly inside of her, brushing her just right, just where she needed him. She arched her back the minute her orgasm hit hard, no longer able to suppress her cries. She convulsed, closing in around his fingers, her legs remaining open as Henry pressed them, still licking and sucking, drawing out every bit of her pleasure until finally, her back landed back on the bed and she let out a shaky breath.

With his clothes still on, he moved to meet her opened eyes and heaving chest, his lips tracing kisses to her cheek and her neck. Her trembling hands snaked under his shirt, running over the skin she yearned to touch. He made hit path back to her mouth, taking her breath away as he pressed a searing kiss to her lips.

"Henry" she called, parting from his lips as her shallow breath suddenly took over. Exhaustion was written all over her features, the fatigue threatening to take over.

"Close your eyes now" he kissed her nose, willing her to sleep.

"No" she shook her head, reaching to the hem of his shirt. "Need you" she breathed, joining their lips together again.

"Baby, you're far too exhausted; you need to rest, doctor's orders".

She closed her eyes, flashbacks of her recent trip to the hospital appearing before her eyes. She hated the machines, the attention. But she mostly hated the reason. Her eyes opened wide as the memories drifted back to the screaming child in that horrifying room with dead bodies and gunfire. "You're here with me" he whispered, the worry quickly showing.

"Am I?" he tilted his head at her question, learning her thoughts as he stared deep into her eyes. He realized then that she required the feeling of his body pressing on top of hers; the feeling of his strong arms holding her. She needed him as close as possible, a subtle reminder that this was not a dream. He needed that too. He needed to know that she really did come back to him, that she really was there with him.

He rolled off of her, standing on his feet next to their bed. He quickly discarded of his clothes, landing back on top of her and crashing his lips to her, suddenly demanding, desperate. He felt her hands roam his bare skin, trailing hesitantly to his hardened length. He bucked into her hand as her thumb grazed the tip, moaning loudly as their kiss broke and their eyes met. His hand moved between her legs, gently stroking her slick lips. He then positioned himself and pushed inside, slowly, until her was buried deep. Her pants were now noticeable, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist.

"Are you okay?" he asked, feeling her muscles tight around him.

"Stay" she pleaded, tears pooling at her eyes.

"I will" he promised, his body moving slowly against hers, his lips kissing her tears. Her hand moved to wrap around his neck, pulling him to her lips.

Parting from her lips only for seconds, he moved against her, pushing and pulling, filling her completely, pressing against where she needed. "Faster" she breathed, joining their lips as her fingernails scratched his skin, leaving a print.

He groaned, complying. Moving faster against her, harder. He was close, but he was only willing to fall off the edge with her. His hand reached for her center, his fingers rubbing her clit in quick motions, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. She moaned and heaved, his name falling from her lips in a desperate cry as she tightened around him and allowed the climax to take over. He spilled inside, grunting and burying his face in the crook of her neck, his teeth leaving their print on her delicate skin as the pleasure washed over him.

He collapsed, his body pinning her beneath his weight. The air was thick suddenly, and she couldn't catch her breath, a sudden memory. It took him a few seconds to notice her pants, the panic rising slowly. Pulling out of her, he moved to land on his back on the bed, his arm reaching for her, pulling her to his embrace. He didn't need her to explain. He heard her stories, the images still so fresh in her mind he could almost picture it himself. Fred was on top of me, the words lingered and he had to blink back the tears.

He was grateful when she managed to control the turmoil, her breath even again, consistent. She looked at him, their eyes speaking in language that required no words, nodding at the understanding they both shared.

"Sleep now, my love" he muttered, "sleep, and I will visit you in your dreams".