The water streamed into his nose and mouth, forcing him to turn his head to breathe. It was good. It was something tangible to fight.

Glaring from his hospital bed, at Draven who'd redacted the overdose, and mouthing, (Give me a mission)

I've been in this fight since

Slowly, the shudders wore out. His tension drained and he slumped—still holding her arms where they held him.

There was nothing good to say. He knew her well enough to know she didn't need an I'm sorry. And I don't know what that was would be… at least a little… a lie.

At last he murmured, "We're both wet now."