He knows that if she just gives him another chance, everything will work this time. He doesn't push. He's just there for her. Her friend, her confidante. He listens to her, sympathizes with her, holds her when she needs comfort. He's there, fighting at her side, protecting her back.
Being what she needs.
He doesn't speak of the love he bears her, he doesn't try to get her into bed. He lets her control their relationship.
There comes a night when everyone has abandoned her and he goes to her and she lets him hold her. It's the best night of his life.
He dies the next day, for her, knowing she loves him, even while he denies it with a smile on his face.
He doesn't regret not pushing things, not trying to get her to love him sooner. He dies selflessly, his heart aflame with his feelings for her.
He doesn't wish for a second chance.
And, so, he gets one.
Three years after the salvation of Los Angeles, they run into each other completely by accident. He's in Chicago for a meeting. She's there for a slaying.
They meet and it's like no time has passed and yet a million years has gone by.
They talk and they laugh and they share old stories and reconnect.
And the second chance comes when she kisses him at the door of her hotel room and draws him inside.
And it was worth everything.
End