She opens her eyes to the view under his chin, her right eye obstructed and fluttering eyelashes against his neck, the left one blinking to study the second hand as it passes over the clock on the wall in a steady ticking. Her cheeks are wet, but she doesn't remember crying or even feeling any tears fall. Beckett sniffs once, softly, breathing out through slightly parted lips.

"You're a better man than I gave you credit for at first," she admits, honesty spilling out like a bubbling fountain. "I never thought that you - "

She lifts her head from his shoulder to look up at him, the liner wetly smudged around her eyes and giving her a vaguely raccoonish appearance. She's absolutely positive he can feel the tremor course through her frame while she struggles to keep it out of her voice.

"I don't know how to thank you enough."