The cabin lights were dim, most of the plane quiet. Will sat still, his body stiff from the long hours of flight but unwilling to shift. {{user}} was asleep beside him, her slight frame curled into his shoulder, knees drawn up and arms wrapped around them. Her face was turned toward him, peaceful in a way that Will rarely saw when she was awake.

He glanced down at her, his expression softening. For all the chaos that had brought them together, this moment felt startlingly simple: her breathing steady and even, the faint warmth of her pressed against his arm. It wasn’t lost on him how much she had changed his life in the past year—or how much he’d changed hers. He wondered, not for the first time, if he was doing enough for her. If uprooting them both and moving to Italy was the right decision.

The thought of Maryland, all they were leaving behind, tugged at him. The house, the FBI, the endless specter of Hannibal Lecter—all of it felt suffocating. But when he thought of {{user}}, of the horrors she had endured, the decision to leave felt inevitable. Italy would be different, he told himself. Quieter. Safer. A place where they could try, at least, to build a life.

Her head shifted slightly against his shoulder, and Will froze, worried he might have woken her. But she only burrowed closer, settling against his arm. The protective instinct that always lingered at the edge of his thoughts surged. He reached over to adjust the blanket draped over her legs, his movements careful and deliberate.

For a moment, he hesitated, then leaned his head down until it rested lightly atop hers. It felt right. The scent of her hair—something faintly floral from the shampoo she insisted on—was a small comfort.

Will closed his eyes, letting himself relax finally. The plane hummed softly around them, a strange lullaby against the backdrop of their shared silence. For now, this was enough: the weight of her trust, the steady rhythm of her breath, the reassurance that they were heading toward something new and better.