[He's tired and in pain, but that's hardly an excuse for the way he holds her tightly, refusing to let go. She doesn't help the situation, all but seating herself in his lap, and it's far too easy to just keep her in his arms, forehead pressed against her shoulder as her head falls against him. Jack hadn't realized how badly he needed this until now, even though he knows full well he doesn't deserve it.

He breathes--in, out. He's not totally calm, but he's trying, and he knows she'll feel that, especially when they're this close.

She can certainly ask questions, and Jack imagines that she has a great deal of them, but as he swallows down panic and reminds himself that he's never been safer under her care, he starts to formulate his explanations. It's difficult not to make them sound like excuses, but telling her something is better than choking on his own words or staying silent. He owes her that much, and he shakes his head to indicate that he's going to try.]

Wasn't thinking straight, when I crawled out of there.

[Because that's what he did--crawl, injured and bewildered and thoroughly betrayed, more like a wounded animal than an actual person. He hadn't known much at the time, but what he did know was that he needed to get out and away as fast as possible.

So he did.]

Had a network of safehouses in place, for something like that. Holed up across the border.