A/N: Aggressively ignores canon.

Andy knows her.

He prides himself on knowing her.

He knows her better for everything she doesn't say (her words tell him nothing. Her face is the only map and he willingly follows the downtrodden paths that it takes him), and he knows that he will not fail her. He loves her. How could this love, a love so sweet and pure, ever steer him wrong? He memorizes her secrets (the ones she tells him and the ones she doesn't have too), imprinting them in his memory. He will never forget, and he will never hurt her. He wants to protect her. He's going to protect her.

He's going to protect her.

He knows when she's had one of those days, those 36-hour shifts that leave her ragged and exhausted. He knows when she has those days that make her want to scream and run (because this town is too small and she is a giant among them), and on those day, he will lie by her side, mapping the constellations of scars along the expanse of her back under his trembling fingertips, never failing to press his mouth in a tender imitation of a kiss the crook under her neck, a kiss that releases the sigh holding her bones taut. She melts into him, and he holds her for as long as she lets him (it is never long enough. He always wants more, but he accepts what she is willing to give. This is what love is. This is love. This is what he tells himself).

With her, he wants nothing more than to be careful. But he isn't too sure he knows how.