It scared her when the glass shattered. She watched the tiny pieces shower down across the sink, the sound growing to a crashing roar inside her head. Even as her reflection burst into shards, her eyes moved down to her hand, following the rivulets of red as they snaked across her skin. For a moment, she couldn't figure out what she was looking at, her brain catching on the way the lights above her reflected in the blood sliding out of her.
"'Lizabeth?"
He was there in a heartbeat, by her side, holding her hand as he pressed a towel to the cuts. It had only taken a heartbeat for her to almost lose him, and the simplicity of that connection ripped through her more deeply than the glass.
Something broke.
There were tiny shards in a sea around her, but she didn't hit a single one. His arms were around and under her as he cradled her to his chest, carrying her out of the room. She felt the bed sink down beneath his weight, and her fingers clutched at his shirt of their own volition, panic stealing the breath from her lungs.
"I've got you," he whispered. "Always got you, 'Lizabeth."
Her voice found her. "Just once," she said quietly, "I'd like to be the one that saves you."
He held her until her breathing evened out, falling in time with his own. Her grip never loosened, but the lines on her face eased, and he hoped that her sleep would be dreamless and free. John rubbed a hand up and down her arm slowly, before leaning in and kissing the top of her head.
"You already did," he murmured.