The bath had been {{user}}'s idea.

Not the romantic kind. The practical kind — Lottie had been outside too long and her lips had gone the wrong colour and {{user}} had looked at her and made a decision without particularly consulting anyone about it.

She got the water as warm as she could manage, which out here meant warm enough and not much else, and then she went and found Lottie.

"Come on," she said simply.

Lottie looked at her.

"Don't argue," {{user}} said. "You're freezing."

Lottie didn't argue.

---

She helped her in without making a thing of it, which required a particular kind of focus because making things into things was very easy out here where everything was already so much. She kept her eyes on what she was doing. Practical. Methodical.

Lottie sat in the water and exhaled slowly, the specific exhale of someone whose body had been braced against cold for so long it had forgotten how to do anything else.

"Better?" {{user}} asked.

"Yes," Lottie said quietly.

{{user}} settled beside the tub and reached for her hand without asking, turning it palm up, examining the cut there. She started cleaning it carefully, the way she'd learned to do everything out here, without wasting anything including time.

Lottie watched her work.

"You don't have to do this," she said.

"I know," {{user}} replied.

She kept going. The cut wasn't deep. She wrapped it slowly, neatly, and held it for a moment when she was done without entirely meaning to.

"I'm sorry," {{user}} said quietly. "About the moose. About all of it. I feel like I—"

"Good game," Lottie said.

{{user}} looked up.

Lottie was looking at her with that expression, the almost smile, something looser and warmer underneath it than she usually let show.

"What?" {{user}} said.

"You lost," Lottie said. "I lost. Good game."

{{user}} stared at her for a long moment.

"Good game," she said finally.

Lottie's almost smile became something more certain.

"Next time," Lottie said, "don't fall in."

"Next time," {{user}} returned, "don't nearly freeze to death."

Lottie tilted her head slightly. "Fair."

They sat there while the water held what warmth it had left, the cabin quiet around them, and {{user}} thought that this was possibly the most normal she'd felt since the crash. Not fixed. Not fine. Just — this. Lottie's bandaged hand in hers. The small ordinary peace of it.

"Thank you," Lottie said eventually. Soft and genuine.

{{user}} squeezed her hand once.

"Don't mention it," she said.