Hellooo - I've decided to do some 100 word drabbles to get my fic muscles up and running again.
He walks back to his team, their jobs safe against all the odds. His eyes meet hers over Jack's soft blond head and for a moment he is excruciatingly aware that she watched him beating George Foyet's body to a pulp. Mostly he blacked out, but he can't forget Foyet's ruined face, his own bloody, swollen knuckles. He wishes he could forget, and he knows he doesn't deserve to. And he knows she won't. But she holds his gaze, runs a hand down his son's back, then up his own arm. "Anything you guys need," she says quietly, and means it.