Lucien has been released into her care for only a few short hours but she can't stop touching him. Fingertips trailing over his arm and shoulders, kisses to his cheek and temple and lips, hands squeezing his hands and thighs.
It's normal, she tells herself. She's just making sure he doesn't overexert himself (he's already tried to go to work twice and he's driving her mental).
But the truth comes to her at night when she can't sleep, tossing and turning and imagining a scenario in which a mysterious stranger didn't save him, he wasn't quick enough to fix his breathing, Percy stabbed him up and a few inches to the right.
The truth comes when she presses herself against him, hand over his heart, and feels the steady beating pounding against her hand and the gentle rise and fall of his chest tells her he's alive.
She lets the emotions of the days catch up to her: almost losing him, choosing to leave the church, the scalding pain of her arm. She lets the first few tears fall and then she's crying in earnest, muffling her cries into her pillow.
He stirs at the sound of her sniffles and looks over at her sleepily, confused. "Jean, love?"
And it's too much. She breaks.
Rolling close to him, she wraps her arms around him, burying her face into his shoulder. "Hold me," she gasps out. It's the first command she's uttered and he's a soldier at heart and ready to comply.
He wraps his arms around her, stroking her hair and cooing at her. "It's alright, Jean. It's alright."
She sighs, snuggling into his arms. "Don't leave me, Lucien."
His heart picks up speed at her words, as close to an I love you that they've ever been and the words stick in this throat. But it's not the right time. He holds her closer and presses a kiss to the crown of her head. "I'm not going anywhere without you."
Lucien knows they need to talk, to hash things out in a way that both of them are scared to do, but it needs to happen before either of them break with the strain of their relationship. But for now, they sleep.