He's barely been here for a few hours and already he's exhausted. He's not sure what she's talking about, why she's apologising about whatever 'it' she's talking about. Surely it's not to do with anything that's happened in New York when she's already freed herself from the grasp of the Hand. Chose their fate in the depths of that dark, cold, underground cavern. And he accepted.

"You're not," he insists. He's reluctant to pull away as well, sniffling. Not because he doesn't want her to see him like this, but because he doesn't want to let go.

"We'll start over," he whispers against her hair, breath warm against her ear. He pulls back then and wipes some of her tears away with his thumb, pressing his lips against hers.

"Everything will be okay this time."