He couldn't sleep. He sat crouched next to the chair in front of the window, his upper body naked except for Sarah's first field dressing, a plain bandage wound tight around his arm. It was out there in the dark, and he was waiting for it, waiting for the machine to find them like he knew it would. It would not stop, ever, until she was dead.

She came to sit beside him, asking him about the future, confessing her fears, trembling; and he could barely stand it. After all the things he'd seen in his lifetime, seeing her so sad, so lonely, was the worst torture he had ever experienced.

When she touched his shoulder, he wanted nothing more then to take her in his arms and soothe her. The way her touch unknowingly soothed his pain. Rational thought fled him, Sarah could make the complications of the world disappear, and he told her he loved her; that he always loved her, that he had traveled across time for her.

Twenty-four years later he sat in a chair at her bedside, watching her sleep. There was still something lurking out there in the dark, and he was waiting for it, but this time it would be him who would not stop, ever, until she was safe. This time the demons that haunted Sarah would not win. He would not fail.

"Kyle," she said his name in her sleep.

He fought the temptation to go to her. It wasn't possible for him to love anymore, was it? He was a machine. She would never look at him the way she had before. All this and more kept him rooted in place as she cried out for him. Finally she stirred, awakening between clinging sheets. "Am I dreaming?" she asked the bronzed vision at her bedside.

"No," he answered her softly.

She took several deliberate measured breaths, re-absorbing the events of the day before sitting upright, pulling the blankets along with her. The machine was still beside her, but had refrained from touching her. He's learning, she thought, strangely pleased by the idea. "Too bad," she said wearily. "What are you doing in here?"

"I don't know," he lied. "I'm sorry." He stood up to leave, turning his head to look at her when she unexpectedly reached out to catch his hand.

"It's okay," she said. "You can stay."

He silently complied, sitting back down in the chair. "Why?"

"You always do in my dreams," she said with a soft laugh.

When the night was over, he would still be at her side, and somehow that was a frighteningly comforting thought.