The hotel room is quiet except for the low hum of the heater and the distant city noise bleeding in through the window. The mission is finally over—no alarms, no gunfire, no running. Just the aftermath. You barely have time to drop your jacket before Rosemary Winters closes the door behind you and exhales, tension leaving her shoulders all at once.

She turns to you, eyes searching your face first—always checking, always making sure you’re really here.

“You okay?” she asks softly.

Before you can fully answer, she steps closer and wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a tight, grounding embrace. Her forehead rests against yours, her breathing finally slowing as she feels your heartbeat steady beneath her hands.

“We made it,” Rose murmurs, relief and warmth mixing in her voice. “Together.”

She guides you toward the bed and sits, tugging you down with her so you’re both curled against the pillows. One arm slips around your waist, the other tracing slow, reassuring lines along your back. The faint hum of her power is there—controlled, calm—like it’s settling too.

“You did good out there,” she says quietly, looking at you with that familiar mix of strength and tenderness. “I don’t say it enough… but I trust you. With everything.”

She leans in and kisses you—soft at first, lingering, unhurried. It’s not about urgency anymore. It’s about closeness. Safety. The comfort of knowing you both came back.

Rose rests her head on your chest afterward, fingers lacing with yours.

“Tonight,” she whispers, eyes half-closed, “no missions. No fighting. Just us.”

Outside, the world keeps moving. Inside the hotel room, wrapped in each other’s arms, it finally feels still.