She had asked him to stay before and surprised him with her gentleness, and he had reacted like she had a knife to his gut and was a breath away from bisection. He had to feel a little bad about that. Since then, she hadn't just not dismembered him in any way for his numerous offenses, but had actually saved him from anyone else doing the same. And still he recoiled from her, and still he was surprised when she was gentle, and somewhere in there he realized his crime all along was handling her with such disrespect.
He slid up the bed next to her, murmuring, "Yeah," while he carefully tugged the blankets from under her to arrange them around her shoulders and just as carefully push her hair back across the pillow, feeling for new stitches. His thumb was kept pressed over a smooth patch of unmolested skin next to her eye until it was replaced with the gentle press of his lips, twice, three times, and maybe he would have kept going if he knew how many new scars she had. There was no real way for him to apologize for each one.