John knew almost the moment he stepped through the gate that Elizabeth hadn't taken his capture well. She hadn't come down the stairs to greet him, and when he smiled up at her, she only nodded and weakly smiled in return. He sought her out later, not surprised to find her alone on the balcony. She was staring out at the ocean, unmoving, even when he walked up beside her. “What're you thinking?” he asked softly, guessing what it was.
“How much I hate making decis--” she angrily started, her voice breaking midword. She took a deep breath to steady herself.
John knew what she was thinking and interrupted her. “It wasn't your decision,” John told her, “it was mine.”
She hesitated, then softly continued, “I'd never forgive myself if...” she trailed off, unable to say it.
“And I'd never forgive you if you'd have made any other choice,” he told her resolutely. He meant it too, and she knew it.
She finally turned to face him. “You could have died,” she uttered quietly, almost a whisper. John saw the unshed tears in her eyes before she dropped her gaze.
He reached out for her arm but even at the touch, she didn't look up. Dipping his head he looked directly into her eyes. “Hey, I'm ok,” he reassured her.
She returned his gaze, blinking back her tears. “Thank God,” she said, and finally smiled. Really smiled.