You're tired. You're done with all of this hunting, and it's frustrating, and it's not worth it anymore no matter how many goddamned lives you're saving, and it's killing you. You almost forget that there's even anything holding you to it. And then...

Then you pick up his shirt from the side of the bed and put it on. And it feels like him, and it smells like him, and for just a split-second, nothing else in the world exists. And it's so soft and worn out and perfect, and you finally feel just a little safe, just enough to drift off to sleep for the first time in a week.

And when he comes in and sees you in his shirt, he doesn't wake you up to take it off. He just kisses your forehead and gets into bed beside you and maybe cries a little when he realizes he's the only thing that feels like home to you.