Fuck. How had he fucked tonight up this badly? He didn't dare draw nearer, too afraid of either being struck or scaring her off. Dory instead stayed a few steps out of reach, just far enough that he wouldn't be able to stop her from walking out the door in time.

But Maple looked so fragile, so sad and broken in the dim light, and he had done that. Not just tonight but for months and years. First with their ending, then with the foolish run ins and injuries. And now - now he didn't know how to guide them back through the muddy waters. He didn't know how to fix what he had so thoroughly broken.

"Please, can we sit?" He pleaded, desperate for a minute to compose his thoughts rather than allowing them to spew out all over the place. She wouldn't believe him if he said that it had always been her, and it wouldn't have been entirely true either. In hindsight, Dory wished he had chose differently and spared the three of them years of pain. He wished he'd allowed Winnie her freedom from their torment instead of clinging to what felt familiar, warm and safe. But he hadn't, and he'd promised himself he'd be truthful with Maple.

"Please." He said again, this time taking a tiny step forward.

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