When Everything Is Said And Done
"You shouldn't be here."
Of course, he was right. She shouldn't be here, and yet, as she stood before him, separated by so much more than the iron bars that imprisoned him, she couldn't think of anywhere else she'd rather be—and that terrified her.
More so that he hadn't instead asked her why she was here. He already knew. On some level, they still connected, still knew each other, even when she didn't know him at all.
Oh sure, she recognized him. There was no mistaking her Hans. Even imprisoned, even disgraced, there were still traces of the man she loved—had loved. Fate would be unkind to her, because she would always remember Hans.
He stood at the bars, well within her reach, facing her silently. What was there to say? Nothing that would do any good. They both knew that. And so they stood, quietly staring at the other—at least he had bothered to meet her gaze.
The way his bangs fell into his eyes, and the way the shadows from the bars played across his skin almost made him look sorry. Almost. So unbelievably sorry, but she knew better than to trust that face now.
She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. Her Hans. He would always be hers, her memory wouldn't let him be anything else. He was still perfect in her eyes, still gorgeous, even after everything. It made her chest ache with a sadness, a grief unlike any she'd ever felt before.
So this is a broken heart, she mused to herself.
He remained still, even when she inexplicably reached her hand out to touch his face. Her fingers trailed softly over the marred skin where she'd hit him. The swelling was gone, but the bruise fully formed. She traced her fingers delicately over the bridge of his nose to rest finally on his cheek. He closed his eyes with a sigh, and leaned into her touch. Her Hans.
And in that moment, whatever was left of her heart shattered. She would mourn him, she realized, more than he deserved of her.
"Hans?" she whispered his name, her voice shaking, unsure of where they were supposed to go from here. It was over. There was no way either could come back from this. Neither would ever recover from this particular brand of love. The scars would always show.
And in one quick, fleeting moment, his lips were pressed against hers in a firm, defiant kiss.
How dare he? After everything, after it had come to this, how dare he now?
She had meant to pull away, meant to slap him with the hand that now moved from his cheek to grip the back of his head and pull him closer, deepening the kiss. His hair was matted, yet still soft as her fingers gripped his skull, keeping him close to her for just a little while longer.
His arms had snaked though the bars, slipping around her waist, jerking her towards him until she was pressed up against the cold, restricting metal, the iron digging into her skin, hitting bone. The discomfort worth it as his tongue slid past her lips and she let him.
If this was good bye, then so be it.
She kissed him. Kissed him the way she had wanted to that night. The night when he'd asked her, and she'd said yes. Except now that hopeful girl full of dreams and optimism was gone. He'd taken that too, along with her heart, with this first and final kiss.
When she pulled away from him and he let her slide from his grasp, what she saw in his eyes killed her, and reminded her that even broken, a heart could still beat.
"Anna?"
Just her name on his lips had the tears in her eyes falling. Wordlessly, she turned away from him, making her way across the ship deck, back to the gangplank, back to the docks, back to her life.
She didn't say good bye to Hans. Good byes were not forever.
But this was.