She don't like it when he gets that look in his eye, and it ain't because she won't admit it's there, or because it belies some weakness he shouldn't have. It's all too familiar, and she hates knowing there ain't a thing she can do to take that burden away from him.

She watches him with no small measure of worry, slipping to his side when it looks like he might topple. Her hands are strong, her shoulders sturdy.

"I got you, sweetheart. I got you."