Maintaining a relationship with someone like Jacket was no easy feat.

The man was a force of nature, an immoveable object - and you were powerless compared to him.

He could come home saying he'd been hit by a car and all you could do was smile and nod. Worrying was futile, you quickly learned. Yes, he came home everyday covered in blood, but it wasn't his blood.

And when it came to love, that's all that really mattered, right?

So the days dragged on. The smell of copper became a constant in the apartment. Dinner together, always of pizza, grew later and later each night.

Until one night he didn't come back for dinner.

You were up nearly all night, pacing the length of the house until you could see your path imprinted into the wood. Finally, fatigue overcame you and you succumbed to the waiting arms of sleep, though restless.

And somewhere in the early hours of dawn you felt strong, shaky arms wrap around you and the acrid tang of copper flood your senses. The body pressed against yours shook slightly.

"I missed you.." he whispered, pressing his lips to the top of your head. "Missed you so much."

Jacket's bloodstained figure curled next to you on the bed, his body rigid and cold. His hands, wrapped around your torso, still clutched a gun he didn't have.