[There's something artless in that brief smile that wrings her heart. As earnest as Chase has ever been in his attempts to win her over, the few times she's seen him as he will be, she's been touched by the startling openness of his affection. Something that's not missing, now, but subdued; buried by whatever grief or guilt it is that he can't share with her. It's frightening; she isn't scared of him, but for him.
And for a second-- though not much more-- she wishes he didn't have to. Never mind that it would cause more problems and solve none. She reaches out for his free hand, clasping it between her own.]
I don't want to lose you.
[Here or there, now or then. What she means isn't entirely clear, not even to her. But there's nothing more she can do; she can only tell him to talk to her, and hope it makes a difference. And try to calm him down, for as long as he's here.]
[once fate put us in the same room, when you knew not of me nor I of you]
And for a second-- though not much more-- she wishes he didn't have to. Never mind that it would cause more problems and solve none. She reaches out for his free hand, clasping it between her own.]
I don't want to lose you.
[Here or there, now or then. What she means isn't entirely clear, not even to her. But there's nothing more she can do; she can only tell him to talk to her, and hope it makes a difference. And try to calm him down, for as long as he's here.]