He knows, even as he tries to shape his lips into a carefree smile, that she isn't going to need her superpower to see through it. Anyone could. He wishes he could hold on to the pretence a little longer, but all he can manage is an "Aye" that comes out a little too small and a little too raw. Emma is worth the trade, is the only one who could ever be worth it, but the loss still grieves him. Home is something you just miss. But the wood under his feet and his hook at the wheel, more constant to him than any person, couldn't fill the lack of her. It grieved him. Home was always his ship and the sails, but now it's something else.
He hadn't told her. They both know how much it is, and he knows her better than she knows herself. She'd run until she felt the loss. How many times had they done this? Her mouth disagreeing with what her eyes tell him, a joke to lighten the mood, to weigh down a heart. He'd give up everything for her, but what happens now that he has? He's no stranger to chance, he can prove it in the cool curve of metal at his wrist, but there are losses that a man can't recover from.
One day he was going to stop chasing this woman
(Today he was going to stop chasing this woman)
She can see it all, and there's the rub. How wants have become needs, there's nothing left but the truth.
She leans forward and he doesn't. Can't. Now this is finally happening (is this really finally happening?) she has to come to him. There's only so many hits a man can take before the cracks start to show. The last memory he has of her is fast. Passionate, forceful, it started proving a point and got distracted somewhere in the middle, but the walls were up again by the end. This is slow. Deliberate. Her eyes are on him and neither of them has ever been this exposed. The only experience he has with happy endings is a world away, and it was someone else's, but if the end were to come in this moment, he could be happy with it.
It isn't ending.
This time the truth isn't a noose around her neck. It's warm arms cradling her. Heavy gold rings in light gold hair. They pull apart slightly; still close enough to draw the same breath, both a little drunk on each other. This feeling, it isn't the rum. A shared hint of a smile, neither can quite believe they're finally here, only to drift closer again.
They kiss for... minutes? Hours? Uncaring of the trickle of people pretending not to look as the head for their homes. Of the father who checks his hand before it reaches his gun, remembering another time with another man sitting in the firelight, and allows his own happy ending to lead him away. They kiss until the lights above them are dimmed, and then sit breathing for a moment, his head bowed, resting his forehead quietly at the base of her throat. Neither willing to disperse the dream-like aura surrounding them. Finally, a gentle movement from her has the soft skin of her cheek dragging against his to whisper a warm breath in his ear. "Come on". They're both done hiding. He'll follow where she leads. Into the inn with fingers laced together, unable to give up the small contact. The heat of him at her back as she unlocks her door. Tender, drugging kisses in the darkness of the room.
That spark of fear vanishing from his eyes the next morning when she wakes up wrapped in him and smiles.
Home is a person.