Kenzi's arms come around his waist and it feels totally normal. Rumlow ensconces her in his own, one hand tucked up at the back of her neck. His fingers card through her hair, and as he ducks his head, she even smells familiar. No way that can be manufactured. Rumlow takes his own advice. At least he has her. Just about the only thing that feels sane and right.

"Hey, it's okay. Shit's freaky," he says consolingly. Really, how could he blame her? Waking up in a hospital, not knowing where you were? Suddenly recalling that you're married, but hardly anything else? It's fishy, but Rumlow isn't going to worry Kenzi more than she already is.

"C'mon, let's look around the house, see if anything else comes back to us."