It all came down to one moment. One defining moment.
Some might say it was the second he found her cold, scrabbling hands in the ground and pulled her out of the suffocating darkness, back into the light of day, but that moment was selfish; it was for himself. He knew by then that he couldn't live without her, and he was thankful mostly for the fact that his life would go on. He knew that, in actuality, she had saved herself; they had known, all of them had known, as they arrived at the edge of the slope, that regardless of how many tricks the two of them had pulled, they would be dead by the time help reached them. Then, like a shining beacon of hope, the earth had exploded and he was saved.
A shallow few might say it was the kiss. It was Christmas time, and there was death, misery and mistletoe hanging in the air as Caroline watched on in disbelief at the prolonged contact, but it was superficial. Enjoyable, yes, but meaningful? He didn't think so, yet it still stung as she looked at her shoes and told him it was like kissing her brother. What hurt the most was the thought of the infinite chances they had passed up before; the time at the shooting range, back when she had still protested at her nickname, back when they could stand with their faces mere centimetres from each other and feel only tension. The time at the lab when she sat fiddling intently with her microscope and he appeared behind her in his white vest and his red headband, still high on his medication, and they were so close he could feel her breath tickling his chin. Christmas again.
Others might say, only slightly more accurately, that it was when her life fell apart and she turned to him for identity. He had held her and said, "I know who you are," as she cried - and he did - but he knew that she would have turned to anyone in that moment. Anyone who would hold her and know her and love her, if only for a little while, because she didn't know who she was.
Then there was trust. They were doing shots after the case and she had asked, "are you going to betray me?" He was fairly sure she already knew the answer, but the question hurt nonetheless. However, he knew he could not blame her for taking the direct approach after all the time she spent dealing in secrets. And then there was his 'death'. How could he possible expect her to trust him again after he had let her believe he was dead? Yet, somehow, she did, and he felt a kind of jubilance at the realisation that she would trust him unconditionally and forever.
No. No, the moment was many months ago. She was seconds away from death, and he was pretty sure he'd never been in as much pain, but they had never been closer in their lives as he lifted her from the hook and they fell to the ground together, her face buried in his shoulder as she sobbed her relief into his shirt and he held her close, vowing never to let her out his sight again.
I'm sorry for the whole mysterous air of 'he' and 'she', but in the beginning I felt that the names were making the story jumpy and disconnected because I used them so much, then I didn't want to have discontinuity by bringing in the names later, so the only actual name in there is 'Caroline', but... you guys are smart. I'm sure you'll figure it out. ;)
And yes, I'm well aware that this general idea has been used before, I just haven't written anything in a while and decided I needed to get something down, even if it was just a character piece like this. I'm also well aware that the summary and title were shamlessly stolen from The Fray's Heaven Forbid. =D
So... you know the drill: reviews = love. Be my lovebunnies.