We have a long chapter on our hands. Lots of uhm...let's just call it "interaction lite" between the two.

And angst. Oh my god, can't forget about that delicious, apple-flavored angst.

"Oh my, this isn't claustrophobic at all," Juri groaned upon setting foot in the cabin.

It was but a shoebox consisting of a bed only meant for one person. There was a nearby couch, a desk with a monitor, and a chair present as well. So was a fridge. So was a tiny washroom. Two windows provided a view of the ocean – they would have if not for two massive containers.

Juri had not expected much; she had foreseen being stuck on a cargo ship for a month. It made sense when you were a crime lord wanting to transport illegal goods, human trafficking subjects, and stragglers keeping a low profile all over the world.

"It's a bit cramped, yeah. The shower is like a coffin," Ken sighed from the door to the bathroom. He closed it and went to stock up the fridge with apple jam and slices of pie. Nestled on top of apple juice. The rest of their inventory was stored in cooling boxes and bags.

"Great," Juri sighed and stretched her legs.

She leaned back to get a feel of the couch, to determine if she should sleep there or not. Her eyes befell the serial number of the containers outside and she hoped they would be the first ones loaded offboard. Ken went to sit next to her with a sound thud, staring out the window.

He wasn't looking for much, just sat with the weight of his thoughts. Probably pondering and wondering if this was the grand battle. Wondering about the end of things. How the world looked in its wake. However things would end, Juri had a feeling that he'd find a way to persevere.

The question was more on how she could withstand his absence.

"Stuck here for the next month. Hm…" she said into the silence like she was testing the waters. For what reason, she didn't know. She hated pointless small talk anyway yet she sat here, encouraging it.

She chewed the inside of her cheek, wondering about her own weakness, wondering about the changes done to her, wondering about Ken's lack of answer while he stood up to open the fridge.

"I hope we don't get sick of each other," he answered wholeheartedly. Juri wondered if she could trust that hope. But then again, of course, she could. Of course, of course.

Because it was him.

Juri had reached the closet summation to trust in Ken. Trust was a process filled with fallacies and biases but a semblance of it had been reached where she could believe his hopes more than her own, suggesting that progress had been made. In abundance. If this was what friendship was like, suppose Juri didn't mind rolling with it after all. It was the closest thing to affection, she could get anyway. They sat on the couch then, eating apple pie and drinking unsweetened apple juice while some music from Juri's phone played on the table.

Time on the ship was a humdrum filled with contemplation. It lay bare how quickly Juri got sick of apple-flavored things. Thus, the numerous jars of apple jam were anonymously donated to other strangers crammed onboard. Screw actually talking to them. The ship had a feeling of criminality to it that reminded Juri of the Eagle Shipping Company.

Still, for reasons of laziness or safety, no one questioned the two stowaways. And Juri didn't question her status as such; S.I.N. had never provided for its operatives to travel between missions unless they reached a certain status. Therefore, the claustrophobic, anonymized hull of a ship was familiar to her in youth. The smell of iron and seawater had long since been cataloged in her neurons.

Ken, on the other hand, was miserable. Either because of the slow travel method or the monotony of their surroundings. Certainly, just the wait. If he wanted to take it out on her, someone, he didn't. He never did. He solely punished his endurance. It was how Juri found him one morning.

He lay on his stomach in the middle of the floor with his arms close to his body, then pushed his torso up, then lowered himself again. Over and over in a repetitive motion. Pushups. He grunted with each repetition and the sweat glistened off his bare back. He had been at this for a while.

Juri rolled over to her side on the comforts of the mattress to look at him further. Trace how his muscles moved under his skin, how the sweat dripped off his forehead. She couldn't see his eyes under strands of blonde hair. Ken continued with his regime and while it was fascinating to watch, Juri slipped out of the bed before she became hypnotized, walking an arch around him until she could comfortably sit on his back.

He grunted a bit under the sudden weight but lay still, posing a question through genuine surprise. "Good morning. What are you doing?"

"Just helping a friend out," Juri said in a pitch with enough nuance to make the jest clear. She kept her legs stretched to help keep the weight off. But really, it was to make it easier for her to move when she got sick of feeling Ken's sweat sticking to her thighs. "What's the matter, Kenji? Can't lift a girl?"

"I can lift just fine," he huffed, and she could feel his breath falter.

"Then what are you waiting for? Chop-chop!" Juri clapped her hands at him and folded them in her lap while Ken continued his pushups. He was a little slower with a fully grown adult sitting on top of him.

He slowed down when the ship began to rock and Juri stood up, brushing a hand over the back of her bare thighs. She looked out the window to not look at Ken. Containers still stood stacked and the only sign of time moving was the spill of light from the corners of the glass. When it was sunny, a ribbon would creep into the cabin.

"Ever considered being a sailor?" it came from her, absent, and not really thought through.

"No. Not a chance in hell. I got my fill when I fled Nayshall," answered Ken – just as Juri expected him to.

She turned around to watch him lay on his back now. He turned his stare to her, curious for but a moment, and continued with his morning regimen. Curl-ups this time. And Juri straddled him. He didn't ask her why. He looked at her, mildly amused, then continued. It was bit of a struggle with her full weight on top of his pelvis, with her hands planted on his abs for balance. His body was hard with muscle, belying a sense of softness under the skin.

"I'm just making sure, you're doing it right," she said and looked down to see, to feel his muscles move. Thoughts, the likes of which were involuntary, filled her mind; sexual in that celibate, anatomical sense. Thoughts of what Eliza would look at. In bed, in the shower, at the beach. What would she think? How would she appreciate it?

How would she feel if someone else took her place?

"What type of woman is Eliza?" Juri asked, apropos of her own overly active thought cycle.

Much to her lack of surprise, Ken flinched. He opened his mouth, probably to utter some protest, then pushed it back and shut himself up before he got riled up. It was always amusing how transparently emotional he was.

"She's a good woman," he answered as he lay flatly on his back to stare at the ceiling. "Supportive, caring, very positive. She's assertive too. Always knows what she wants and how to get it. Got a good head on her shoulders."

"She's your type, then?"

To this, Ken soured a bit. Little by little, he had come to terms with the fact that one way or another, his marriage to Eliza was over. The heart didn't care about reality. He knew that.

So did Juri.

"…I don't have a type anymore, I think. The world is filled with pretty, blue-eyed blondes but there's only one Eliza."

And there was only one Ken.

Ken, who didn't pull away when Juri slowly spread her fingers over his flesh and felt the way his body fit under her touch. She drew in a deep breath with the scent of him. How different, how raw he smelled. She never thought to catalog it before now. Ken hadn't moved a muscle, but he kept his eyes locked on her.

"There's only one version of a lot of people. One me…" she told him and left the habitual One Bison at bay. That would be touching on wounded ground. She had come to terms with that because she found something else. Not something she could have. Not someone she had any right to have. The worry of what came after this journey was ever present like the inevitable embrace of death.

"It's what makes the world such a magical place," Ken smiled at her.

Juri hummed in quiet contemplation, rubbing her thumbs over his pecs. She felt his heartbeat and she flushed, closing her eyes to the crimson. She had found herself in such a position before, indulging in the opposite – or same sex when she wanted to indulge and tease.

Soulless, anonymous. They couldn't see the bleeding flesh inside.

It felt different when she liked the person. That occurred to her just now. That was the beauty of masochism. Indulging, self-torturing, self-flagellating. Toying with one's wishes, never having them granted. It was easy when she wanted to kill.

It was harder now. It was harder with people. It was for that reason that Juri told Ken; " The world sucks too much to ask for things. It's so much easier to take what you want. And even still people can disappoint you."

He breathed out long and hard. He wasn't much taller than her, but he was broad between her legs. Only then, did he touch her with patience and a little awkwardness. Hands on her thighs. Warm and sweaty palms. Like he was learning the anatomy of a woman. She was learning how to attune to love, he was learning how to be single. Maybe.

"It won't be that way when you find…" he paused, shifting his gaze to the side. "When you find home. The right people."

Unfortunately, that wasn't quite within Juri's grasp. And it didn't sound right coming from him either considering the mess he found himself in. But for a while, things must have been feeling like home.

She slid her hands across his chest, across his collarbone, and rested them on each side of his neck, pressed against his tacky skin. Black roots were showing but Juri kept her eyes locked on his and asked; "So when do you know you've found home?"

Not by asking apparently because he shifted underneath her, lifting his body until he sat up and she ended up pressed against him in his lap. Her breasts flattened against his chest, and she felt every fiber of it. She had to put her hands on his shoulders for balance. It didn't help that the ship was beginning to rock harsher than usual.

"Sorry, got a little dizzy," he said, and she climbed off him, licking the part of her thumb that had touched his neck. Salty and sweet with sweat. Thank god, Ken wasn't looking now.

She could fucking crawl into him.

When her eyes found him again, she found his expression to be scrunched together in worry while he peered out the window. Water was splashing over the containers with waves lapping furiously at the ship's hull.

For a moment, Juri thought - maybe hoped, the increasing rocking of the ship distracted Ken from answering her question. Aptly ironic, he said; "You know when you know. It just feels right. It feels like you were always meant to be there with those people."

Juri hummed in bitter thought. She hadn't felt right since she was a teenager. Those people died with that right feeling.

The ship continued to sway and now the containers outside the window swayed too, sliding bit back and forth until one flipped over and vanished from view. It caused a burst of white light to pour into the cabin, moments before a metallic thud sounded through the walls.

Then a splash.

"Oh crap," Ken's voice cracked at this, and jogged to the fridge to keep it close. Juri thought to reassure him because part of her had stopped getting anxious about storms.

She found them cozy. She liked the natural discord. Liked the way, the winds whistled through every nook and cranny. She wasn't sure, she liked the loss of balance. One particularly bad sway caused her body to wobble in Ken's direction and he caught her arm to hold her close. His grip was like a vice, and she wondered if she could break free should she try.

Juri wished she wasn't dressed in underwear and a tank top, practically half-naked and wholly indecent. The warmth of his body against hers caused her to shiver for him. Ken, in his never-ending goodness, took it as a sign of fear and wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her steady. He kept his eyes locked at the window, but she could feel the bottom of his jaw in her hair and heat rushed, involuntarily, through her.

Ugh.

She wanted…something. Desperately. That selfish masochism morphed into desperate pining. It ached in a way Juri hadn't experienced before. Not this hard. Not this fast. Not this…sudden. It made her giddy at the novelty, the amazement that someone had managed to bring those feelings out of her as it made her furious for even feeling.

Ken, whether he wanted to be or not, was a sadist. A terroristic sadist. Touching her, holding her, letting her take what she wanted, what she could comfortably get from him. Not knowing the power, he held over her. Juri kept her arms leveled with her body lest she'd be giving in. Still feeling trapped.

The ship stopped rocking. Objects stopped rolling off the desk, the bed, and the counters. Waves stopped lapping the metal hull. One of the containers outside had fallen over. The storm passed. The world fell quiet.

Ken let go of her completely but he didn't move. Neither did Juri. Either from wish fulfillment or the fury of being so pathetically needy. All she could think about was trespassing. She was an interloper. An intruder. If she didn't care, if she didn't feel, she would have taken what she wanted and not be bothered about ethics or morality. Or guilt.

The world lived to disappoint.

Slowly Juri peeled herself off Ken's body with such abruptness that left her reeling. Dazed, she threw herself onto the couch and looked out the window, at the sky.

The sun was shining.

Midway through the third week, Juri got sick of her feelings. She woke up in the middle of the night, nestled in the bed. The cabin was pitch black and quiet. But Juri was quieter while she went about getting dressed. Outside, the lights in the corridors were blinding but the halls stood empty. Juri could get away with traversing stained, blue carpets and vinyl flooring. Outside, the wind was exceedingly loud, probably powerful enough to knock someone off their feet.

Her mind went elsewhere.

In truth, Juri wasn't sure what she was expecting to find or why she needed it. All she knew was that she had to stop her ethereal feelings. She'd know she had found the right place when it'd hurt physically. Slowly, aimlessly, Juri walked past cabins and utter silence. On occasion, she'd walk past supposed crew members – or stowaways. Sometimes drunk, sometimes frightened. No one in those categories paid attention to her. The faces became more dangerous as she descended deeper into the ship.

Eventually, Juri came to a stop in a corridor that echoed with distant music. She had heard whispers about the lower decks where the unsightly ones gathered, where desperate people came for money to spend on contraband and black market wares – or selling drugs. Juri wasn't lusting for any of those things; she knew it was a bad idea to come here.

And yet, she ventured deeper down the corridor, kicking some trash and used needles on the way. She walked past one door to a cabin that stood slightly agape and caught wind of a man hurling slurs and verbal abuse at someone - female with the echo of cunt and bitch. Inserting herself in domestic disputes was not what she came for either.

Eventually, Juri came to a stop at one door, decorated with crude graffiti. Heavy music was emanating from the other side, and she dropped the idea of knocking. Instead, she just pushed it open with ease and headed inside, slowly but without caution. It wasn't a cabin actually but rather a common room with a narrow foyer that led to a floor covered in dirty utensils, broken beer bottles, discarded cans, a couple of stained mattresses, dirty clothing, used condoms, rusty spoons, and bloody needles.

A couch stood pressed up against the wall, sagging and stained with beer and other fluids. There was a stereo from which the music played at a rough, almost deafening volume. Men everywhere, some of which Juri had seen on the ship before. There were a couple of girls too, one of whom lay on a mattress with a belt around her arm. Track marks littered her skin.

It was…familiar.

Juri had almost fallen into these same vices, and she had seen others descend into it, far beyond a point where they could be pulled back up. Her head began to spin with memories; memories of being torn between revenge and wanting to descend into a bliss beyond this world. Watching other orphans give in and stop fighting. Listening to their lamenting and bucking under S.I.N.'s demands.

Even now, she saw it in these people; giving up, stopping the fight. Always the same. She almost envied them. A couple of the faces looked up upon noticing Juri's presence. Some, she recognized. A lot she didn't.

"Who the fuck are you?" one of the men raised his head and squinted at her.

"Someone to break you," Juri answered, her voice calm and steady. She expected that rush of anticipation for violence with her words, but she felt nothing. She would have to try harder.

Another man chuckled, with some of his friends following suit. "What, my dick? Sure, go ahead, you fucking slut."

They didn't quite take her seriously. Like she was speaking to them from a different time zone, and they needed time to catch up. All except one man who stepped out of a nearby bathroom. A giant of a man staggered towards Juri and lurched forward. Another barrel-chested thug, another man who was bald. He stood without a shirt, revealing scars on his arms and chest. Super hairless except for the beard on his face. He towered over Juri.

"The fuck do you want?" he snarled, with spittle and all. He had to bow his head in order to glare her down.

Another man with a black mohawk snickered from one of the mattresses. "Maybe she came for you, Jony."

"Shut up, Schot," a girl kicked him over the shin.

Now would be here where Juri would smile and take her time in breaking people just as shattered as her.

"You're one ugly bastard. Pathetic son of an ugly whore, doing drugs instead of working. What would your mother say?" she said and waited to see if this Jony took the bait. Silence filled the tension under the music, and it took a mere moments before fury sparked in Jony's eyes.

He shoved her in the chest, sending her stumbling backward. A threat rather than an attempt to fight. Juri didn't back down, rightening herself only to get shoved again and again until she stood in the foyer with her back against the door.

He wouldn't push the envelope, so she did, stepping forward to kick him in the stomach. Fear filled Jony's eyes momentarily as he tumbled backward and fell over the body of a girl. A sharp yelp came from her, drowned out by the clattering of beer bottles and cans. Incensed, he charged at Juri and this time, his threat became an attack. He grabbed Juri by the collar of her jacket and slammed her against the door. Her breath came out in a sharp huff and delightful pain shot through her body. She closed her eyes to it.

This was what she wanted.

Juri prepared for a second impact, but it came much later when she was put on the ground and kicked in the stomach. It took a mere second before she landed hard on her shoulder in the corridor. Every instinct of hers, the pride, the will, the urge to destroy struggled against the need to feel pain, to feel alive. To stop feeling for Ken. All thoughts of him vanished abruptly when a flurry of kicks was aimed at her from Jony and some of his friends.

One boot landed under her chin but caught her mouth and the impact made her entire skull rattle. The fading taste of toothpaste and spit was quickly washed away by the steely flavor of blood flooding her gums. She opened her eyes and spat red saliva onto the dirty vinyl floor as another three kicks connected with her stomach and side and she could have sworn she felt one of her ribs crack.

She curled into a ball and lay there, letting them shower her with pain as she wanted. Her pride wouldn't allow it – usually but lately, it was as if her sense of self didn't know what to do anymore. She had already made the mistake of growing affection for someone. Someone unattainable. Fucked-up people like her didn't deserve such things.

It didn't take long for them to grow bored but for good insult, one of them spat on Juri and together they left, slamming the door behind them.

The ship felt cold despite the warm glare of the overhead lamps. It was almost peaceful in how clinical it was. It reminded Juri of her mellowness during the insertion of the Feng Shui Engine. Back then, there was nothing but the sound of muffled, hushed conversations and her own steady breathing under the gory surgery.

Now, there was nothing but muffled music and her own labored inhales. It was cold but she liked the sensation of it. She could sink into the feeling of grime pressed against her cheek. If she closed her eyes, she could fall into a soundless sleep. Give up, stop fighting.

Forget the haze, sleep, and not wake up…

It was tempting but not overpowering. There was someone in her mind, in her heart of hearts, that compelled part of her to move. In her mind, Ken was waiting for her, reaching his hand out for her.

Ugh...

Gingerly, Juri moved her tongue around her mouth and was pleased to feel all her teeth intact. Not even loose. She forced herself to stand and looked back at the door. Then she lost herself to the will of the Feng Shui Engine and went back for payback. Hurt and be hurt. Spill blood, get blood spilled.

Her own personal ouroboros.

Her own living hell.

Somehow, by sheer willpower, Juri managed to walk back to the cabin, clutching her stomach all the way. Something inside rattled with her every breath and she was certain that a rib or three had been broken. After turning the key and entering the cabin, she was happy to find it quiet and she almost thought – hoped – that she could get away with collapsing onto the bed and sleep. She'd handle Ken and her pain tomorrow.

Instead, she heard rinsing water from the coffin that was the bathroom.

"Juri? Is that you?" Ken called from the other side of the door and her voice caught in her chest. By the time she managed to clear her throat, he had flung the door open, suspicious of the silence. A burst of white light peered into the cabin when he came into vision. He couldn't see her, but she knew she had been caught.

She couldn't even beg him to shut up and go to sleep because he turned on the lights then.

When he came into vision, hands dripping, bare-chested, his arms dropped to his side, frozen at the sight of the proud Juri Han leaning against the wall with blood dripping everywhere. For a second, Ken stared at her in shock before his heroic instincts kicked his ass into high gear and he rushed forward, wrapping his arms around Juri to support her.

"Oh my god, what the fuck happened? Who did this?!" he fretted, all frantic and lowkey hysterical. His kindness. The genuine worry in his eyes. The warmth of his body against hers. How worried the words from him came. It was too much. On top of everything, it was just too much.

Feebly, Juri tried to push him away, trying to stagger forward on her own. "It's fine. I'm fine. I don't need your stupid help. It doesn't matter…"

"Yeah well, fuck you. It's not fine, you're not fine, you do need my help and it does matter," Ken bit back in a manner that sounded like something coming out of Juri's mouth.

He kept his grip around her, and she forced herself to surrender more vestiges of pride, sagging into his reassurance. Slowly, they made their way to the bathroom where he eased her to sit in the shower stall. It was too cramped to fit her fully, so her legs spilled out between his. Slowly, gingerly, and with a lot of pauses, he managed to peel off all her clothing, leaving her only in her underwear.

Juri found herself staring at him, sarcasm taking a seat instead of gratitude. "Not gonna take the panties?"

"I'm just cleaning you up because you got blood everywhere, you absolute maniac," Ken answers, exhausted and aggravated.

He tossed the heap of clothes into the cabin but didn't turn on the showerhead. Before that, he stood back and inspected the injuries, agape at the sight of her. "You are going get some really bad bruising. I think, I fear, that you might have gotten a few ribs broken."

His eyes lingered on her flesh, cataloging everything sharply. Juri's body would no doubt be a collection of contusions and aches, painted in purple and red. Soon to be blue and brown in a watercolor of convalescence. She wasn't keen on looking down at herself, but it was hard to not imagine what Ken was seeing.

A wreck. A fuck-up. A monster. A bitch.

Juri used to carry those labels with pride for she had nothing else. Now, she closed herself in shame. She had never felt less cut out for the world she created for herself than at this moment. It was an awful experience, made twice as unbearable as the silence stretched.

"Great…" Juri sighed into the quiet and caved to fix her gaze downwards at the flare of red and purple that littered her torso, particularly her right side. Her eyes flicked upwards and saw the hurt on Ken's face.

"Why?" he asked, not accusatory. Just worried. Just tired.

"…It's a bad habit to hurt people. It's…necessary to get hurt. It's like an addiction, you know? Pain for pain's sake," her mouth trembled into an uneasy smile.

"Juri…"

"It's fine. I got busted too. Eye for eye, right? Isn't that what karma is?"

Ken scoffed. "Karma is bullshit. And It's not fine that you're hurting yourself."

Juri fell silent.

She didn't know how to explain it to him further. Of why she resorted to this. If she tried, she'd be sharing too much. She didn't even know why at this point. Nor did she understand why Ken's hands lathering her with soap as the water began cascading over them both made her want to hurt herself again just to escape the rush. It was like his touches brushed against the most wounded part of her, without judgment, without hatred, with concern. Powerful enough to pull some affection out of her cold, dead heart. It was as if her mind wouldn't allow her to have one good thing in life.

Sadistic terrorism.

At one point, he left and returned moments later with a washcloth. He sat in front of Juri, gently took her chin in his hand, and lifted it upwards. She ought to close her eyes against the piercing blue hues looking back at her. If Juri was less exhausted, more broken, she would send him away to shield herself. Cuss him out and berate him. Pick a fight to see who'd come out on top. Hurt him as much as humanly possible.

Anything to make him leave.

Then, when alone, she'd chastise herself for even allowing herself to enjoy his company. She'd mourn his absence. However, it had been a long and awful night, too packed with self-punishment so she let her selfishness have this tiny nugget of victory. She'd allow herself to be enamored, just so she could be cared for again. And be cared for by Ken. She'd fill the void, the space Eliza had left. Such sentimental trite. Such honest, raw garbage.

Ken lifted the cloth to Juri's lips and gingerly wiped the inside of her mouth, cleaning her gums of blood. The water was shut off and he managed to gather her into his arms. Screw helping her stand, he was now carrying her like she was his bride. They made it to the bed where he eased her onto the mattress. His pants were soaked but he didn't seem to care. She grabbed his arm like he was about to vanish off the face of the planet and he understood.

Because of course, he did. And so, he crawled into bed – with her. It was cramped and uncomfortable, but it was what Juri needed the most, she understood. Finally realized.

"You know the shady assholes that work the cargo at day and walk around the ship at night?" she uttered.

"Yeah?" Ken asked, his voice hoarse with sleep. The warmth of his breath was so intense, it lingered across the top of her head for a few seconds.

"They had this drug party. I went there. I don't know why. I guess I was looking for trouble. Got what I wanted and then some. They beat me up and I beat them up too."

A sound sigh came from Ken's nostrils. He reached for her hand, drawing circles in its palm, with his index finger. "Self-flagellation is the worst thing ever. But we're experts at it."

It was bizarre to hear a summation of her own fallacies echoed right back to her from someone other than the voice in her head.

"You have people to come back to. I don't. I never had. You think you can punish yourself enough so they can forgive you when you go back. That's fine and all but there was never a chance for me. I have no one to forgive me," Juri said, her voice tinged with bitterness yet low and gentle – on account of exhaustion.

"Then why punish yourself? For…?" Ken's eyes bore into her, and she let out a wry laugh that caused her ribs to ache.

"For feeling internally. For staving off numbness. For…"

For loving him. For failing to protect her parents. For failing to avenge them. For simply failing.

"For shielding yourself," Ken said, his voice full of fondness. "If it helps, you have my forgiveness."

Juri's breath caught in her chest. She closed her eyes and simply nodded. She kept them closed when Ken cupped her face and leaned close, three words leaving his lips in a gentle whisper. "I forgive you."

His touches were warm again and she felt like she could melt. She could feel the tension leave her body involuntarily. Moving of its own accord, it rested her forehead against his, their noses almost touching. Unfamiliar, alien but comforting. Gently, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. A question lingered in her mind, but it was far too humiliating and selfish to ask.

Ken must have picked it up somehow – along with the sudden urge to just cry. She felt like crying for so many reasons, that she couldn't possibly articulate. Miraculously she didn't. Her eyes just stung. He didn't press the issue and pulsed the blanket over them both, tucking her in like he was protecting her from the world that loved to disappoint so much.

Juri didn't need protection. But she'd take it tonight. She stopped shaking, softening against the hand gently rubbing her shoulder until the sleep came to claim her.