Fuck. John's mouth hardened into a line and he held himself still as she pulled away from him. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He didn't need anymore. How she got away, how she'd faked her death... that could wait. The way she looked, the expression on her face even after twenty years of time between, was enough to concern him. He didn't want to startle her, so he sat up slowly and carefully and leaned forward, taking his time to make sure that he didn't invade her space too quickly.
"You're not there now." He stated clearly and firmly, his voice a gentle sound in the quiet room. "You're never going to be there again." A burning anger settled in John's middle. If they hadn't died already, he'd make sure that he found them: whoever had done that to her. And he'd make them face the brutal impartiality of his justice. Keeping his voice even and calm, J.D. wanted to reach out and touch her again, remind her of something good.
"Dorcas." He moved his hand slowly toward her, waiting to see how she'd feel about it.