The last time he had been in a hospital bed they had been completely different people. She had handcuffed him to the bed then, but now she waited anxiously for him to wake; the rise and fall of his chest was a reassurance that he was still alive. His face seemed to have aged in the few weeks since she had last seen him, his brow in a permanent wrinkle of pain even in his slumber. He had been so tired when they found him, but their reunion and the adrenaline had kept him going through their escape from the underworld. He had collapsed as soon as they reached the real Storybrooke, his legs unable to hold him as he fell in her arms in a way so painfully similar to when she lost him before.
He was fine. Whale had given him a look over while Emma fretted at his side; he was just exhausted, there was nothing rest could not fix. So she waited. She refused to leave him for even a minute in case he woke to find her gone, despite her parents anxious insistence of sleep. He had been alone so long she did not want him to ever have to be without her again, or she without him. No one had washed his face, it was still covered in ash from their journey as she brushed some off his shallow cheeks. It pained her to see him so unlike himself, so lacking his spirit. He would get better, but he will never be quite the same; she finds she does not care because neither will she. They can fight the daemons inside their heads together.
He was groggy when he woke, his eyes misted with sleep. They darted across the unfamiliar room before landing on her face. She could see the tension leave his body as he fumbled to grab her hand, relieved she was not a dream. His voice caught in his throat as he struggled to whisper her name like a prayer; the days of constant screaming would take time to heal but Whale had assured her he would be back to normal soon. Emma didn't care if he never spoke again, just having him here alive was enough.
There were tears sliding down his cheeks and his grip tightened around her hand. He was panicking, his trip to Hell still fresh in his mind; the images flashed against his eyelids every time they shut. Only she could could quieten the voices in his head that screamed this was not real, that his mind was playing cruel tricks, and so he clutched her hand close to his chest, pulling her body to his. He buried his face into her neck, his cold nose burrowing into her warmth. In her embrace he was safe and he knew she would never let anyone harm him again.
His breathing slowed and his lashes fluttered against her neck as he blinked away the pools of water. He could feel their two halves of a heart beating simultaneously, a strong, confident rhythm that linked the two lovers for eternity. For Emma had proven nothing could separate them anymore, not even death.