Alex took Mort to her bathroom.  She turned on the shower and insisted that he get in and warm up.  He didn't know why he let himself follow her.  He didn't know why he undressed, but he did…after she left the room.  He got into the shower and almost collapsed as the heat hit him.  He shut out every thought that came to his mind; he simply didn't have the energy to deal with any of it right now.

"Mort?"  Alex's voice cut through the water.

"Yeah?" he said, sounding much older than he was.

"I, um…I brought you some dry clothes."

"Thank you."  Mort turned off the water and heard the door close.  He opened the shower curtain – grateful that it wasn't a door – and saw the clothes sitting on the counter.  They must've been Tristan's. 

Of course they are.  She's willing to let you wear them though. 

"I shouldn't."

You should.  She's trying…be patient.

"Shooter wants to…"

Talk to her and he won't be able to do a thing.  She can help you.

After he was dry, Mort slid on the plaid flannel pants and gray t-shirt that Alex left for him.  He walked into the bedroom and froze for a moment.  Alex was on top of the covers, but she had reclined against a stack of pillows on the right side of the bed – Mort's side of the bed when he slept there.  She was asleep and for that brief moment, Mort felt that he had just come out of his own shower and was looking at his own bed…Alex, his own wife, falling asleep while waiting for him.

It's not so bad to think.  You could have it – if you really want it.

No, I can't.  You've done nothing but confuse me!  When I first met her, you said I didn't deserve a relationship.

Did I?

Yes.

Why?

I…I can't remember.

Good.

Good?  Why is it good?

Don't worry about it – it doesn't matter anymore.  She'll keep you safe – both of you will be safe.

She's going to think…

Wake her up.  Talk to her!

She's tired.

Don't you dare leave.

But she's sleeping.  I don't want to scare her.

So don't. 

Terrified of frightening Alex, Mort approached the bed.  His hands were warm from the shower and when he caressed her face, she didn't jolt awake.  "Alex?"  If she said her husband's name, he'd leave, if she didn't…

"Mort?"

He smiled; he couldn't help it.  For the time being, Shooter was gone.  The beginning of the story that Shooter wrote was gone.  She was the only thing in his mind.  "Can I crash on your couch?"

Alex nuzzled further into the pillows.  "No."  Before Mort could react, she added, "Stay here.  We can talk."

"You're exhausted and you have to work in the…"

Alex opened her eyes and smiled.  "I'll play hooky."  She was noticeably exhausted, but very persistent.  "Please stay?"  She sat up and pushed the extra pillows off of the bed.

Mort never wanted anything more as he pulled back the covers and crawled into Alex's bed.  She did the same, then immediately snuggled into him. 

"I missed you so much."

Mort ran his fingers through her hair.  "I missed you too…more than you can imagine."

"You're so warm," she said, her voice airy.  She yawned.  "I have my own teddy bea…"  More comfortable than she'd been in what felt like a lifetime, she fell asleep mid thought.

Mort wrapped his arms around Alex.  "I want to stay here," he whispered.  "I'm safe here…we're both safe here."  He fell asleep.  No disturbing thoughts, no voices, just sleep.