From the second the Factory fell, they were never apart. He breathed in when she breathed out, rhythm of the blood in their veins holding the same pattern.
For the first time, he didn't shove her away. When they boarded a plane to get out of the country – passports, metal detectors, security guard, oh my! – he let her rest her tired head on his shoulder. He kept his hand over her arm, hoping no one would see blood leaking through the fabric.
He held her close without holding her at all, in a plastic chair, listening to airplanes roar through the dawn sky.