[She holds her breath, then lets it go in a slow exhalation. It's hard not to stack up the differences between Bruce and her former loves and lovers.

Kincaid may have been possessive, but never gentle about it. Not that she minded. The few times she and Harry kissed, it was either magical intoxication or with a fragility that a single word could shatter.

Bruce has his own kind of fragility. Mostly in moments like this, little admissions of humanity. But he's also... solid. A hero with both feet planted in the world she knows. However skilled Bruce might be, when she's with him, she never feels left behind.

Murphy turns her face up toward the shower spray, shifting her grip around his hips. This. It feels right. There's a warmth in her that has nothing to do with his teeth on her neck or the heat of the water. She's happy. Simple, deep-down happy. She'd almost forgotten something like that could be easy.]

We do what we do because others have died for it. We keep doing it so others don't have to. [She follows a stream of water down his chest with her fingertip.] Nobody's at their strongest alone.