{{user}}’s head was rested upon Lincoln’s chest as his gentle hands stroked down the top of her head. It was silent, peaceful… but {{user}} couldn’t get the lump out of her throat. She almost lost him today. {{user}} thought that was it over when chancellor Pike held that damned gun to Lincoln’s head.

Her eyes closed at the soft feeling of his breath hitting the crown of her head. Lincoln could feel the girl’s discomfort, he always could.

“It’s over now, rest.” Lincoln spoke softly, his usual gruffness toned down to something far more tender as his lips moved down to her temple. He wasn’t thinking about himself, or the death he nearly met. His concerns were on her, always.