When they first met - God that felt like such a long time ago, even though it mustn't have been that long. He wasn't actually fine when they first met. Far from it. How many nights had he spent alone in this room with his head buried in his hands, silently praying for all the noises outside to stop? Every domestic argument had him pulling the sheets over his head bracing for the sound of a slammed door at best or a knife being drawn from a wooden block at worst. Every gunshot woke him up from his light sleep.

If she had only known how damaged the man who put on the lawyer suit and burst into her interrogation room was. She probably wouldn't have wanted anything to do with him.

She sent a shiver down his spine, chasing those thoughts away. His fingers curled weakly into the sheets. Veritable proof that she didn't actually need to fuck him up to fuck him up.

"You were worried about me?" he asked breathlessly with a boyish smile on his face, one hand releasing its hold on the sheets to slip between her hair, sliding down over the back of her neck. "Thought you didn't care about anything."