"I thought I was getting better."

His brow furrowed even as he held her protectively in his arms. Getting better? Was she ill? If so, why hadn't she said something? Was she so worried about him and his still healing body to keep him...

"I don't like small spaces," she said, shaking her head. "I don't, they... they make me nervous."

And then it all came rushing back to him like a dream from long back. January (was it January? Maybe it was December?) and running into her at Euphoria. That was when he'd first really pursued her and they'd ended up in the Tube to get back to Lowell. She had panicked. Hyperventilated. He'd had to hold her and protect her and keep her grounded.

How could he have forgotten that?

Why would he have ever assumed that she would be so afraid of small spaces that she would consider being under him a small space?

Into her pause, he spoke. "Ath? It's just me. I won't hurt you, yeah?"

But she was too far into her own world at the moment to give any real heed to his words, it appeared. It was her last words that had him pausing, his brow knitting. Wouldn't go where? The kitchen? When it occured to him that, no, she meant his bedroom, he looked at her with confusion.

"Hey, look, I'm all for seizing the moment, but River...who knows when she might walk in and I figured that the bedroom would provide much more privacy than going at it on the couch, yeah?"