I didn’t reply. I was aware of the physical touch, her hands on my face. I was aware I wasn’t fighting.

I was aware I was failing some test that a younger me had been convinced I would pass.

“I—” Still hard to talk. The hole was bigger. “—want to go home.”

“No you don’t.”

“I should want to go home. I—” I felt he air go out of me. I heaved in a breath. “—should be telling you it’s time to get a second opinion. You’ve compromised me.”

“Can you stop talking for three seconds?” she asked. “I’m concentrating.”

“It’s the protocols, Amy. I’m compromised, you’re suspect. The rules say—”

I found the breath lacking, and for an instant I thought she’d taken my ability to speak. I should have hated her for it.

My jaw worked, mouth moving, words absent.

The protocols were something I’d studied with Dean. In the moment, feeling the horror, feeling the horror go, just as fast, I wanted him with me. I wanted him to hold me and talk to me, and remind me if I was missing any of the master protocols.

As much or more than I wanted to be with Amy. Which I shouldn’t have wanted.

“Shhh,” she shushed me.

The hard edges of emotions smoothed away. Thoughts of Dean slipped away like sand between my fingers, and I had no idea if it was her doing it or if losing him in the Endbringer attack had permanently tied him to feelings of desperation and panic.

I found the ability to speak again.

“—The rules say to reach out,” I managed, quietly and diplomatically.

She shifted position, raising herself up a bit, and put forearms around my shoulders, elbows on the shoulders themselves, like she was about to hug me. Instead, she just leaned over me, arms partially around me, and kissed me on the forehead.

Rather than break the kiss, she kept her face there, nose in my hair, and mumbled, “We could.”

“Should,” I said, pulling the sheet up to my collarbone, staring at anything and everything that wasn’t her. I gave a moment’s consideration to following the protocols. Fighting.

Was it logical, to throw her away from me? How hard should I throw? Enough to only get her away? To break something? To destroy her?

Logic felt far away.

“Shhh,” she said, breath hot against my forehead. “We could. Maybe we should. But there’s still work to be done.”

“I’ll deal. Heroes get hurt.”

Not something I believed, but something I felt like I would have said.