There were things he'd never tell her, things that even she would never know. And she'd hate him for keeping secrets, hate him for having these secrets to begin with, but in that moment between a gunshot and chaos he was glad.

...

She'd lost count, it didn't happen often; but the bar was warm and the liquid comforting so she let 'Benny and the Jets' roll over her as she systematically destroyed each slice of lemon she encountered. The music was loud, and the hands pulling her to dance were rough, but it was better than crisp mornings spent over dead children.

The soft brown eyes were such a contrast to the rowdy blokes sending her drinks that she broke. Dropping the straw in disgust she allowed him to steady her as she slid from the stool. He smelt like summer and spices, and she leant into him, seeking a support she seldom accepted. No protest passed as he wrapped his coat around her and placed a chaste kiss to her forehead, straightening the shoulder-pads and pulling up the collar, she merely fell into him.

He nodded at the bartender, a silent thanks unnoticed for a deal unknown.

As he tugged off her heels and tucked her securely in his bed she realized that she was falling apart, that this was breaking down. She wondered when it had come to this, when she had become the kind of girl who needed saving. She wondered why it felt so natural, so normal for him to be the one saving her. Until she realized that he'd been doing it for years, that maybe this situation was just one like so many others she'd never noticed. She spent so much time looking for the worst in people, looking at the worst that they can do, that she'd stopped seeing all the good before her. She'd let their take-away meals and silent beers, coffees and rushed smiles all become just another part of the job, another consequence of a life always a heartbeat away from over.

He awoke to long legs climbing beneath his throw-over, cold arms slipping around his torso, a nose burrowing into his shoulder. A thank you so silent he felt it in her breath rather than heard it in her voice.

She'd never know that he'd bribed the bartender to call him every time she entered, or that he'd flashed his gun at the man who tried following them out. But it was better this way.