He squeezes her hand, trying to meet that delicate balance of wanting to squeeze tight and never let go, and in keeping her free of pain in what would be a choking embrace. She draws closer and he thinks he feels himself on the edge of that delicate balance even still.

He steps back only enough to give him space. It's only so, when he fold free hand over his heart, he can bow to her properly, assuring that this promise shall go with him even into the grave. Even further still.

They would be okay. Finally they would be safe.

They had to be.