• She ran her fingers through his hair lovingly, holding him close. She smiled at his pale face, remembering his laugh. Tears rolled gently off her cheeks, wetting his face. She pulls him closer, trying to keep his body warm. As long as he's still warm, she can pretend he's still there, still holding her, still telling her to be strong and telling her she can do it. She looks over at the table, glaring at his killer, his one weakness... his syringe.