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The following is a vignette that  genesisw wrote and provided me with for the idea for this page. I felt I couldn't properly show the psychology behind what was going on here through images so I asked if I could include said vignette. So without further ado:

Hector didn't remember going to sleep. All he remembered was that moment when she had finally let those walls she had been hiding behind drop and let him in again. He'd been reading to Artemis as always, hoping that she'd find comfort or a center in his words -- and then he felt a hand on his shoulder. At first he ignored it, dismissing it as his imagination and wishful thinking, but finally he glanced over like an afterthought and saw her there, concern in her eyes and smiling tiredly down at him.

No words were exchanged. He simply let the book fall from his hands and grasped her with a strength he didn't know he still had. All the emotions came tumbling out, his guilt, his fear, and his understanding of how truly kindred spirits they were. She cocooned his head in her arms and purred softly, rocking him back and forth as she murmured little nonsense noises to let him know it was okay, that everything was okay.

The wave of relief and emotional flood from having his friend back had sapped everything he had. She must have somehow carried him to bed and tucked him in. His shoes had been slipped off, his outer shirt had been removed, and he was comfortably bundled under a blanket. The only thing different was that his pillow had a heartbeat.

This wasn't like Silver's invasion of space. The blanket had been purposely put out to act as a barrier to separate them, but she was curled against his side with one arm draped over his chest, and his head was resting against her. Hector's pride twinged a little, he was centuries old and had been through experiences that would drive the average person mad with fear. And yet... this felt right. He'd confessed how she had become like a mother to him. Her protectiveness when he was hurt, her gestures of help and comfort, and the blazing rage he felt when he realized she had been taken prisoner. It was almost embarrassing to think that when they had first met he thought she would make a replacement for a pet he once had.

And now he was clinging to her like a child who had been plagued with nightmares. More amazing, she was allowing herself to be clung to and even curled around him the way a protective lion would shield her cubs.

Hector's cheek itched and he shifted his head out of reflex. He heard Artemis sigh and he went absolutely still in response, worried that he had stirred her awake. He didn't want her to wake up. Part of him wanted this one little moment to stretch on forever.

Instead he heard a soft thrumming in her chest as she began to purr again. He felt Artemis' damp nose touch his temple and her rough tongue rasp lightly against his cheek. She was still asleep, but acting on instinct as she felt him move. In any other situation he would have found the whole thing comical, but somehow this felt right and he forced his tense body to relax.

The elf hesitantly reached out and stroked Artemis' arm. For all the interactions they had ever had, she had always been the one to reach out to him and all he was used to feeling were touches from her hands. Working with all of the animal people in Fox's base had instilled in him a taboo about petting someone with fur. Between friends it was coddling and insulting, as if you were treating an equal like a child. But this was a deeper bond, not the intimacy of lovers, but of family.

Her fur was thicker than he expected and soft as a whisper. It lacked the rough outer guard hairs he remembered from petting Euripides. Hector had always quietly marveled at how Artemis seemed to keep her fur so white when there were so many things that were determined to stain everything they touched in this world. Maybe one day he'd ask her what her secret was.

But not tonight. Tonight Hector could lie to himself. He could close his eyes and pretend that everything that happened, the centuries of pain and loss, it had all been a bad dream. And like all children with nightmares he had gone to the one person in the world who could wipe them all away and help him forget and sleep peacefully again.

Hector moved to rest his cheek on her shoulder. She unconsciously moved with him, nuzzling her chin against the top of his head and draping her free arm across his back, almost like she was an extension of the blanket she had wrapped him in.

He knew it was all a lie, a silly game he was too old for, but it was a feeling that hurt too much to push away. Hector closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep. Tears dried quickly, fading like childhood. But sometimes children's games and tears were the only things old men had.