This could be all they have-- all she gets, all the future she ever gets to know. They could be wrong about everything; she could disappear tomorrow, or die here. But she has him, right now, and for once the stupid live like you're dying advice feels meaningful.

She's kissing his sternum by the time he rouses to speak her name, and the hand on her back makes her shiver pleasantly, pulling herself up so she can look him in the eye.

"Fox," she answers softly, sweetly. She'd thought it might feel strange, but everything about this moment feels perfect. Natural. Inevitable.