Already Broken.

He didn't flinch when she touched him, not when she leaned in close enough that he felt the warmth of her breath as it escaped her nostrils. She didn't flinch when his heartbeat thumped against his ribs. Her stethoscope lays cool against his chest, cool against the scars and secrets his skin held like armor.

"It's a wonder it hasn't broken by now," she said gently, in that same voice that seemed to control the strength of the ocean tides just as the moon held them captive.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he looked beyond at the clinic window, the sun hung low on the horizon, a peace so far away he could almost grasp the man he used to be- lost, somewhere in France, his face drowned by mud, despair-and the thought of all the things before this moment with her came together. Greta. Grace. Every damned person who crossed his path and ended up bearing his curse.

Then he met her gaze, unblinking, too blue to be real.

"Already broken."