The steady sound of running water faded into white noise. It was accompanied only by an occasional rustle of bedding. The fabric was rough where it met her skin and worn spots littered the surface of the old comforter. Claire turned, eyes seeking out Owen's figure. He had been sitting in the desk chair of their hotel room, toying with a pen. There was a rhythm to it, from taking the cap off and putting back to simply sliding his fingers down it's surface. The motion was almost soothing, bringing some life into the otherwise motionless room.

"Owen..." the word was quiet, unsure, hesitant. Upon hearing Claire's voice, Owen's hands stilled. She watched as he shifted to fully face her, eyes immediately finding her own. Her view now unobstructed, she could see the lines creased across his forehead and the dark shadows under his eyes. He appeared to be feeling the same mix of exhaustion mingling with the lingering fear and anxiety that she was.

"What's up?" His words were enough to help calm her frayed nerves, his tone reassuring her that he was there and everything would be alright, at least for the moment.

"What are we going to do with Maisie?" The thought had been swirling through her mind ever since meeting the girl in the midst of all the chaos. With Maisie currently in the shower, it seemed like the best time to address the topic. Obviously, they couldn't just abandon her, which had lead them to bring her along. They hadn't spoken about her at all, but through an unspoken agreement decided not to leave her alone.

"We take her with us." He stated simply, the timbre of his voice more raspy than usual. "That seems to be the only option." Claire nodded before tipping her chin down staring down at her fingers. She stretched out her hands before curling them into loose fists and setting them on her crossed legs. Everything Owen said made sense and she wanted to keep Maisie around as well. After going through so much trauma together, Claire had no desire to let the girl out of her sight. But one word had stuck out to her: us.

"What does that mean for us?" She asked allowing herself to make eye contact again. There was a part of her that still craved organization and labels. While she now knew that not everything was black and white, this was a blurry and messy matter and she wanted to gain at least a little bit of clarity. She wished to bring any part of her life into focus while amidst all this uncertainty.

At that, Owen stood and strode over to her in just a few steps. "I'm not leaving you again," He said, sitting down beside her at the foot of the bed, angled to face her. "I've made that mistake too many times." He finished, desperation creeping into his voice. There were countless emotions mixed up in his expression, and she was too tired to pick them apart. She just knew that he was here and wanted to stay with her. A smile ghosted over her lips. They had made so many mistakes in the past. She was too uptight, him too relaxed. Then he wanted to flee from the tragedy while she wanted to fight it. The spark between them was bright and vibrant but never managed to catch flame. It fought through icy blizzards, created thunderstorms, and survived downpours. Now, it was finally fostered enough to take root and burn; burn though all the pain and insecurities, through the fear and anxiety.

She lightly brushed her hand against his jaw before skimming it down his neck to rest on his shoulder. "Good," she whispered, "because I'm not leaving you either." Shifting her weight toward him and letting her eyes flutter closed, she brushed her lips against his in a fleeting touch. A shaky breath fell from her lips as she took a peek at Owen's face. Jaw clenched, eyes opening to reveal wide pupils, and and a stillness she rarely saw in him: He was the picture of restraint.

"Please Claire," The words were quiet, just a hoarse whisper. She knew what he meant, what he wanted, or rather needed. Giving a small nod, she felt one of his hands go to her waist and the other come up to cheek. Coming forward, he captured her lips. The kiss was hungry and passionate. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, shocking the exhaustion from her system. His lips moved against her in a frenzied rhythm, causing a soft moan to rise up in her throat. Breaking apart, Owen looked at her with a smug grin plastered across his face. He definitely heard her. Rolling her eyes, Claire fisted one hand in his shirt and pulled him back, meeting his lips in an open-mouthed kiss. She felt the hand on her waist tighten, pulling her closer. It was her turn to get a reaction from him. With no luck so far, she slid her hand from his shoulder up into his hair and tugged lightly. Tilting her head slightly, she nipped at Owen's bottom lip, lightly scraping it with her teeth. A groan rumbled deep in his chest and she was sure that it was the sexiest sound she'd ever heard.

Pulling back to sate her air-hungry lungs, she let a smile tug at the corners of her lips. This is what she had been missing for three years. Her body craved his touch and she felt a magnetic pull toward him. Putting that aside though, there were other things to worry about like sleep and Maisie finishing up with her shower. While Claire didn't plan on hiding anything from her, she didn't exactly need to come out to her practically jumping Owen on the bed. Feeling a flush heat her cheeks at the thought, Claire gently separated herself from him, instead settling for sitting beside him. Owen placed an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. The warmth of his body created a comforting haze and tiredness began to ebb back into her. She knew that this feeling was love, even if she wasn't quite ready to say it yet. They would have time and for now, just being with him was enough.