Ian stood under the warm water leisurely, watching Erin through the glass of the shower as she brushed the tangles from her hair. She was staring at herself in the mirror with a vacancy that Ian had seen many times before. She was thinking; stuck in her emotions… Scared. The bathroom was steamy and hot and the beads of water clung to the skin that was exposed from her tank top and sleep shorts not covering her body. Ian smiled softly, but ignored anything sexual as he turned back to grab his bar of soap. So many couples weren't together- Erin was right- and it felt wrong to be happy. It felt wrong to love; lust.

"Zip, is my lotion in there?" She called loud enough for him to hear, but still as quiet as possible.

"Yeah, Pip," He responded, grabbing it and sliding the glass back to hold it out to her. "Why was lotion in the shower?"

"I like applying it right after I shave," she smiled slightly before replacing it with her normal, tight-lipped scowl and taking the tube from him. "Thank you."

He stared at her momentarily before shaking his head and shutting the glass door once again. As he finished rinsing his hair, he tried desperately to keep his eyes open, seeing as whenever he closed them gruesome images of the blood and gore of the accident flashed through his mind's eye.

When he finally turned the water off, he shivered for a second and grabbed his towel quickly, drying his hair a bit before rubbing the white, fluffy fabric over his lower body and wrapping it around himself. When he had stepped out of the shower, Erin handed him the lotion and turned to exit the bathroom.

"Put that back on the shelf for me." She spoke curtly over her shoulder before leaving the room completely.

Ian heaved a heavy sigh and shook his head, placing the lotion back in the shower and sliding the door shut. She was completely standoffish and he didn't know what to do. Normally, he knew how to handle her, but no kiss after a shower? No running her hands through his wet hair and joking about it not having pounds of gel? That wasn't normal; that was something she always did…Even when things were tough.

"Erin?" He called out, walking into their bedroom and letting go of his attempt to give her space.

"What?" She asked quietly from her seat at his desk.

He couldn't help but smirk at how she was sitting, with one leg crossed over the other, and her arms around her leg, keeping it in place as she painted a thick coat of black on her toes.

"You look like a contortionist." He scoffed before laughing quietly.

"Don't make fun," she warned. "This is to your benefit, isn't it?"

He shook his head and came to sit on the floor in front of her, kissing the bottom of her foot gently before looking up at her.

"You're disgusting." She spoke in mock hatred.

He rolled his eyes and tried to keep up with the sudden change in her mood.

"You know you can talk to me, don't you?" He asked as softly as possible; trying to avoid breaking down her barriers as opposed to her letting them down for him. It wouldn't do him any good.

"I know that." She stated absentmindedly, dipping the brush back into the polish before continuing to paint over the bare nails.

"Then why won't you?" He asked a bit more forcefully, immediately regretting his tone of voice.

"Because I don't fucking want to." She spat, standing angrily and shoving the polish into the trash can.

"Erin, you've got to be kidding me," He practically shouted, standing from the floor and following her into the living room. "In all our years of being together you have never pushed me out this much. Is it that impossible for you to tell me how you feel now? What the hell did I do?"

"You didn't do anything, Ian," she responded, keeping her back turned to him as she leaned against the counter. "It's this whole accident; this whole sick nightmare, and you know it. It's so stupid for you to think it was you. Why the hell would you think that?"

"Now you're pulling the me being an idiot card? Whatever, Erin."

She turned to look at him them, and just before he had turned around as well, she caught his gaze and her eyes bore into his, displaying every hurt and every fear that she had ever held.

"I'm definitely going to open up to your bitchy statement of whatever." She mused quietly, staring down at the floor and kicking the leg of the chair that was next to her.

"Erin, I'm sorry."

"'I'm sorry'? Those are the shittiest two words you could ever come up with. They mean nothing. At all those funerals this weekend, people will be saying 'I'm sorry'. It doesn't bring back their loved ones, it doesn't change the circumstances, and it sure as hell doesn't take away the hurt. Take your sorry somewhere else."

She shoved past him then, grabbing her black coat and walking to the front door.

"Where are you going?" He sighed, running his hand over his face tiredly.

"Out. Don't wait up." She responded before exiting the house and slamming the door shut behind her.

For a moment, he stood there, considering giving her the space he really should have provided her all along, but after only a moment's time, he grabbed his coat as well and followed after her. He knew she wanted nothing more than to be alone right now, but it wasn't his job to always give her what she wanted; it was his job to keep her safe…

Especially now.