Fic for notacargojet
Sandra stood in the dark living room, gazing down at the shadowy form of the man passed out on her couch. He’d looked so lost, so broken, when she’d brought him home. She felt a rising wave of anger churning through her; she wanted to hurt whoever had made him like that. She could still sense the shattered remains of the man he could have been, the strength and goodness that blazed in the depths of his eyes. She clasped her hands behind her back, forcibly restraining herself from stroking his hair like she’d used to for her children when they were upset. She had no right to touch him, no reason to think he’d want her to. But still, there was something about him that she couldn’t ignore. “Nate,” she whispered, then paused, to make sure he was still sleeping. “Nate, whoever you’re running from, whatever you’re scared of, I swear to God I won’t let ‘em touch you.”