Maybe it was subconscious, but it seemed that his hand had strayed toward hers. They both seemed very pale—ghostly, almost. They seemed very isolated, too. Very alone. Very fragile.

She was shivering, and he wondered if she was awake, too. He wondered if her eyes had somehow wandered to the quarter inch of space between their outstretched fingertips, if she was thinking exactly the same things he was.

And just for that instant, six years of uncertainty are forgotten, six years of awkwardness and bickering and avoidance were completely thrown aside. And ever-so-suddenly, he takes her hand in his.


AN: You can probably expect several variations of this same scene. But not quite yet. Just eventually.