A/N: I dunno. I wanted something lovey dovey, because I think Todd and Lovett are MEANT. TO. BE. So yes. Comments are always nice. Hehe.

She lay sprawled about his bed, her arms wrapped tightly around a single pillow. Her mouth lay open, heavy breathing audible throughout the room. She twisted and turned, out of discomfort or nightmare, he didn’t know. But it wasn’t anything new. She was always a ridiculous sleeper.

He felt terrible. Yes, emotion. Regardless of what she thought, he really did care. He didn’t mean to scream. He didn’t mean to slam anything. And he certainly hadn’t meant to choke her. Her glassy eyes were imprinted in his mind, pleading for her life. Within seconds of his realization that he was killing the woman, he had released his grip, only to have her rush upstairs, slamming the door behind her. The door to his room. He wasn’t sure why she had gone in there, she had her own room, but he knew she must have been a reason.

It hadn’t been the first time he had laid his hands on her. She was hard to deal with, you know. He tried, oh how he tried. But she pushed. She pushed him off the edge this time. Those times. And he always felt horrible afterward.

Sweeney closed the door behind him quietly, softly walking toward the bed in which his counterpart slept. He wanted to apologize, but the words couldn’t form. So he decided to sit on the other side of the bed, stewing to himself, contemplating and forming the words that seemed good in the mind but horrid when bouncing off his tongue.

She stirred. She curled into a ball, a shiver running down her spine. Her eyes remained closed, a long sigh rushing from her nostrils. She yawned, bringing her fists to her eyes and rubbing repeatedly. Her eyes fluttered; their gaze met. She opened her mouth to speak, to question his presence, but she had no time. His soft lips met hers, his fingers gently stroking her hair.

He rested his cheek against hers, bringing his lips against her ear, whispering two words that took hours to find. “I’m sorry.”