With him holding onto her, Meredith lets go of his hand, fingers combing through his hair. She doesn't feel any need to speak, just to press close to him, eyes shut, feeling the way his chest lifts and falls against hers. Words can wait, words can be saved for later. This is how she likes it, safe and easy, what movements she makes languid, barely a conscious decision. It's one of the few things she's been able to rely on, the way he makes her feel.