Work Text:
Helen knocked quietly, hesitating a moment before walking through the door to her husband’s office. He sat at his desk, resting his head in his hands, the weight of their world, and all the others, squarely on his shoulders.
John looked up, ashen, exhausted, and, it seemed, just holding himself together. He wanted to confide in her.
He stood, dropping his gaze to look out over the city before turning to face her.
Just months before, their family had enjoyed a semblance of equilibrium and security. But now, that was all gone. Thomas was dead; Amy and Jennifer, lost in either direction.
Helen took a shaking breath, a shiver passing through her as she felt the aching distance between them and moved to close it.
Winding her arms around him, she willed his eyes to return to hers.
“Helen, I — ” he started, words catching at the back of his throat.
She shushed him, feeling her own eyes burning.
“I know,” she said.
His forehead rested against hers and for a moment, they could pretend.