She might recognise the expression on his face. She saw it when he walked around his desk to stand in front of her, and held a tape out, and said, why am I a threat to you? Hurt, and sad, and resigned. And just a little bit angry.

'You think there's still something hanging over us?'

Really!?

'Of course there's somethin' hanging over us, Alex. When do you think there's not going to be something hanging over us?'

He wants to say it doesn't matter, that them going to bed won't make it worse, or better, or change anything. It'll make them feel good, and they can forget for a bit, and eventually the sex would be for fun. And because of how they feel about each other. Not anything else.

Except, she's looking at him all worried, and asking what's wrong?, and the anger coils together and burns up his chest, up his throat and out of his mouth. How can she not know?

'I had half my head blown off. And you...you dug me up.'

He pulls back further, hands dropping away from her. But his eyes hold hers.

'Hope it feels better, touching me with skin on. Wouldn't like to think the bones did it for you.'


As soon as he says it, he wishes he hadn't. But it's too late.