The clock stroke midnight when he woke up with a scream scratching his throat, that in the last minute he could stiff into a deep breath. The silvery moonlight gleamed through the open window, as a soft, salty breeze from the ocean caressed his face, like a smoothing balm, taking away the echo of the cries and moans from the River of the Lost Souls that still filled his mind and were about to drown him into madness. Blinking away the ghosts from the Underworld, he tightened his arms around her, and laid his cheek on her hair. Emma barely moved, her breathing calm, her eyes shut, undisturbed in the depth of her sleep. A soft smile curled his lips, as he pressed a feather light kiss on her forehead, relishing in their closeness. Her warmth was calming; it told him this was real. But most of all, it reminded him that life beat inside of him again. For a brief second, he had feared to wake up and find himself in the Underworld again, wrapped in its red glow, and worse, with Emma trapped in there, her name still carved in that tombstone, sealing her fate, and surrounding her by death forever. She would have never left his side, but even when they could have been together, they would have been separated by an abyss they couldn't cross. Love wasn't enough, as strong as it may be, to defy the rules of death and the designs of the Underworld. And even though she would have stayed if she had to, he could have never forgiven himself for not doing everything in his power to get her out, condemning her to be away from her parents, her son and her friends, just for him.
Emma stirred a little, but she didn't wake up; his hand gently stroke her hair, unwilling to disturb her sleep. After all, she needed it. She hadn't slept for days after rescuing him from his prison, and, he was certain, neither after she left him behind. Until then, with the touch of her last kiss still lingering on his lips, and the salty taste of her tears that confirmed it was all over,he hadn't r eally known the real torture the Underworld could inflict, because, even when he lost Milah, the hate and anger boiling inside of him didn't let him think it was the end; there was something that could still be done to soothe the pain and grieve the loss of his love… But with Emma, their mutual understanding that there was nothing else to be done, was a more shattering pain than death itself. Knowing she would have to live brokenhearted, loving him still, thinking of him in the Underworld, laying on that same house that once had been the promise of their future, but forever separated by an insurmountable barrier, was the true torture of that hell. Two shattered hearts with no chance of healing.
But this... This was it. What he wanted. What he had dreamed about since the moment he first kissed her. That she felt like he did, as naturally as he knew it could be, and were not afraid of leaning on him and open her heart to him. His fingers kept caressing her golden locks, darker in the night. Then, slowly, he moved a little out of the couch, and slid his arm under her knees, picking her up in a quick but gentle movement.
"What is it?" she mumbled, eyes still closed.
"Shh, it's nothing, love" he whispered, as he carried her to the stairs. She laid her head on his shoulder, and slid her arms around his neck; and once again, he relished on her full trust and confidence in him. Gently, he laid her on the bed, and pulled the sheets to cover her bare shoulders. But she reached out and took his arm.
"Leave that" she said, her voice a whisper, her hand sliding down and grabbing his hand. He let himself be pulled down, as she reached his face and pressed her lips to his, tenderly but passionately. A sudden ardor awoke in his soul, searing with the fire that, an eternity away, had confirmed they were lost. To each other. To a destiny they never saw coming, but now was like air to breathe, keeping them alive. His hand found her waist, as he deepened the kiss, delighted when she pulled him closer, but always gently, sinking in their mutual need.
There was a time in which this could only have been a dream. A longing that would never come true, a future that could never be real. But every kiss, every caress, seemed to cover their scars, and make the pain go away. She may not be perfect. No. Neither he was. But even so, he was certain of one thing. She was perfect for him.
"Emma" he said, almost silently, his forehead against hers. "My love, my everything."
Her green, sleepy eyes found his, still smiling, and she moved a little, making space for him. He removed his jacket, and slid by her side, his arm snaking around her waist and pulling her closer. Soon, she was asleep again, like if it hadn't been more than a fleeting dream, breathing steadily, but peacefully, and he couldn't help a smile.
"I love you", he whispered in her ear, pressing a soft kiss on her warm cheek.
How can he possibly have thought he hated her? How could he let Darkness speak for him, when it was love what moved her in the first place? She just had confirmed how much she cared for him, going lenghts he wouldn't have hesitated to reach if it meant she could be free, no matter the cost... and he had chosen to despise her for it, when he should be grateful every single day for such a creature? How could he hurt her like that? Feeling a shiver down his spine, he tightened his arms around her. Underworld or not, memories were unforgiving, and wouldn't leave him for a long time. But when it came to irrevocable truths, he thought, there was nothing Darkness could do about them, even with all its power. Nothing would ever change the fact that he would die a thousand times for Emma, in the blink of an eye. There was nothing unworthy if it meant she could be safe, and happy, with those she fought so hard to find and save. He would not let that struggle to be in vain. Not for her, nor her family. Not after seeing her fully allowing herself to love and be loved, being the Emma she always kept behind a wall, and that had completely bewitched him. His Emma.
Slowly, his eyes fell shut, and after a few minutes, he drifted off too, his arms still around her, his last thought being of her, and vowing that nothing would ever take him away from this again. From her.
The light of dawn found them hours later, shyly filtering through the window, but they didn't move. For the first time in months, there was no hurry to do anything. No one to stop, nor to save. No one needed them more than they needed each other, right then and there, warmly together, sunk in each other's presence, even in the depth of their sleep.
They were home, and for now, that was more than enough.