A/N: This is my first post-ep fic. I usually set my stuff a little off canon, but this idea came to me shortly after watching Good Cop, Bad Cop. Maybe because I found myself wanting to hug David McCallum and Mark Harmon a lot during it. I got hugs on the mind. So, here it is. One-shot, tags to that episode.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

He found himself with her in the elevator again that night, completely unplanned, unlike the dozens of other times he'd

wound up in there with her in the past. Right then, he wasn't particularly looking forward to it. The two of them had more uncomfortable elevator rides in the last ten months than they had in the three years before that, and they'd already spent fifteen seconds of uncomfortable silence together in the afternoon. She was thinking the same thing; he knew it by the way she'd flinched when he stepped in behind her. But instead of running away, she just gave him one of those polite, forced smiles that were becoming far too common for his liking.

She pressed the button for the parking garage, and he cut a sideways glance at her. She looked exhausted, he realized, and not for the first time. Hell, she'd looked exhausted since before their trip to Israel. Since Rivkin showed up Stateside last spring. But today, after all the questioning, all the brutal honesty, she looked…wrecked.

Damn it, if she'd just listened to him instead of telling him he was jealous…

But none of that mattered, he decided. Who was right, who was wrong, the things that should have been said and the choices that shouldn't have been made. What happened, happened. They couldn't hit replay. They couldn't change the cast. All they could do was deal with the here and now.

As the elevator started its descent, he impulsively reached out and hit the emergency brake. The lift shuddered to a stop with a kick neither of them were expecting, and he waited until he was sure they weren't going to plummet to the basement to face her. When he did, the look of panic and defeat on her face was like a bullet to his heart.

He swallowed his own fear, and stepped up to her without saying a word. He tried not to notice the way she barely leant back, away from him. This time last year, she would have met him step for step. He ignored the pang of regret in his chest, and reminded himself that he'd have his work cut out for him if they were ever to enjoy an easy relationship again. And that hard work started now.

Slowly, so that she wouldn't startle, he wrapped his arms around her, one high around her shoulders, one low around the middle of her back. Safety. Security. Just as he expected, she went stiff in his arms, but until she told him to let go, he wouldn't. And to his relief, she didn't. After a few moments more than he would have liked, she took a few deep, calming breaths and then he felt her body relax against him. Her arms went around his waist, and she turned her face into his neck. He decided it was an encouraging sign.

She inhaled deeply at his neck, and when she exhaled, she let out a single sob. He knew it was a big deal for her, showing her vulnerability and humanity, and thought that maybe—maybe—he hadn't lost as much of her trust as he'd thought. As much of her as he'd thought. She tightened her arms around him, giving him some assurance that he'd done the right thing.

"Okay?" he asked her, barely above a whisper.

He felt her nod, but sensed her reluctance to completely separate herself from him just yet. That was fine with him. He'd had four months of separation—separation he thought was excruciatingly permanent—and that was quite enough to last him a lifetime.

He felt that he should say something more. To try to give her some words of comfort that would erase the last six months of lying and arguing and death and torture. But words couldn't do that, and he'd be crazy if he thought they should be able to. It didn't stop him from making a feeble attempt, though.

"It's always going to suck," he started, getting the sickening truth out of the way. "But eventually, it won't suck as much."

She tilted her head up, resting her chin on his chest as she met his eyes. He wished he knew what she was thinking that put that curious look on her face, but at least she was looking him in the eye again, and what more could he want from her these days?

He took a deep breath, and prepared to bare himself to her one more time. "I'm with you," he told her. He needed her to know that. He still had her back. Despite what her handler wanted her to believe, despite what Eli David was probably only too pleased to point out, despite what she probably told herself over and over, he had not abandoned her. He would never abandon her.

For one heart-stopping moment, her eyes filled with tears and her face looked ready to crumble. But she nodded and pulled it together and, God, he thought she might just believe him.

"Are we going to be okay?" she asked him, her voice thick with unshed tears that tugged at his heart.

"We will be," he told her, desperately wanting to believe it. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next week. But sooner or later they'd have to be. Because losing her again would be the final stamp in his passport to Crazy Town.

She looked up at him, her dark eyes wide and trusting, and he felt the almost overwhelming urge to kiss her and make believe that it would fix everything. But somehow he knew it would only make the situation worse. Make it harder. Confuse them both and drive them further apart in the end. In the end, he settled for pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, just as she had to him.

The smile that pulled at the corner of her mouth when he stepped back brought a grin to his own face. Maybe this was one thing he wouldn't screw up after all. He hit the emergency button again, and the lift continued down to the garage.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

He reached over to squeeze her hand before the elevator doors opened. Things already sucked a little less.