She looks up at him, wide eyes filled with a medley of emotions. He reaches out to her, his concern evident on his face. She wants to meet him halfway, but fear holds her back. What exactly she is afraid of she doesn't know. He places a gentle hand on her shoulder. She stiffens in a reflex response. She yearns to lean into him, and yet pulls away, withdrawing further into herself. He takes his hand back, entwining it with the other in his lap. They sit in silence. Her shrunk in on herself, hiding her face in sweaty shaking hands; him looking on worriedly, watching intently for some sign as to what he should do. "Chrissy?" His voice is soft, tentative, warm. The chill shooting up her spine wars with the warmth that blankets her. She inhales, slowly, deeply, laboriously, then lets out the breath in a shaky sigh as she removes her trembling hands from her face. She stares at him, her eyes wet with unshed tears. Unfamiliar with such empathy she mentally wonders at his motives. The bond of their eye contact is tangible, it connects them and blocks out all else. She swallows hard, and tortuously inches her sticky, perspiring hand towards him. He encloses it in his own, squeezing lightly in reassurance. She lets out a sigh containing all her past pains and suddenly relaxes into him. His free arm wraps around her, and she is surrounded in a cocoon of safety and protection.