She shook her head slowly, brushing her fingertips back and forth over his lips, those beautiful lips that she had wanted so badly to kiss when everything was being blown away.

"I'm thinking," she whispered back, "that it would be nice to just stay here." She swallowed, aware that her eyes were starting to tear up. Everything that she cared about had been taken from her, from Saw to her father to the rebels who went into the fire with her. It was all gone, except for him, for this, for his face and his eyes and his lips and his arms and his warmth and the way he looked at her and the way she felt when he looked at here.

She swallowed again.

"Can we just stay for a little while?" she whispered, almost inaudible, her fingertips trembling.