You stayed in Luis' arms, and he combed his nimble fingers through your hair. This was pretty much your nightly routine. After Spain, you couldn't be apart. Not for long, anyways. Hands always had to be on, warmth shared between too bodies. Reassurance of life and living.

Neither of you minded this routine. Hell, you moved in together. Neither of you minded. For the both of you, it was better to be stuck together than even inches apart. Especially after... well, after Krauser.

He'd never admit it, but he wouldn't have minded death. Maybe then he'd be free of guilt. He had done what he could. And to die by your side, no less? Such a heavenly way to die.