[He doesn't fight her, not when she puts proof under his fingertips. She speaks, she breathes, she's warm, all the proof he could ever need, but then Dawn had seemed that way too. Every fucking inmate here right now was that way, a ship populated by the dead and dying. But she presses and clings and it's practically reflex to slide his arms around her in turn, to pull her close, one hand against the back of her head as the other slides securely around her waist, like holding a much smaller child.]
no subject
Yeah. What the hell happened? From the beginning.