He slowly paced the corridor back and forth in front of her door. Every once in a while he would stop and stare at it, trying to decide whether or not he should activate the door chime. She hadn't been the same since they rescued her from the facility where Michael had held her hostage – the place where her baby had died.

He wanted to go to her. He wanted to hold her, comfort her, and tell her everything would be alright but he couldn't. His guilt at not being able to save her son ate at him like a malignant tumor. Even now, his hands trembled in rage at the monster that had caused her so much grief and agony.

He stood with his back to her door and suddenly slammed his fist into the wall, cursing loudly. That horrible feeling of helplessness washed over him again and he felt tears prick the backs of his eyelids. Dammit! He was supposed to protect her, protect them all! He hated to fail. He hated to let anyone down. He hated—

Suddenly, two strong arms came around his waist from behind. He jumped a little and looked down to see her small hands on the front of his dark shirt. He could feel her come up close behind him and lay her head against his back. From the small shudders coming from her, he could tell she was sobbing.

Instantly he turned, raising one arm over her head, and then bringing it back down to wrap around her shoulders. She turned her head into the curve of his neck, her tears wetting his collar. He wrapped both arms around her tightly and soon her tears subsided. They simply stood like that for a while, until John was no longer sure who was comforting whom.