When they meet for the first time, the fifth time, it takes every effort for him to not disappear. He feels that his soul can whisper away from him, as quickly the darkness came for her, but as soon as her eyes lock on his, it anchors his feet into the asphalt.
She breaks away from her parents and Henry, her gloved hand still lingering on her father's shoulder as she moves her feet in his direction. She was still confused, the memories slowly coming back to her, the darkness still being washed away.
He swallows. How many times had he pictured this? In the months of waiting and fighting and searching, the battling and compromising andwishing...every which way, every moment, he felt the weight lift as her arms wrapped around his neck and kiss her. And she would come back to him as he always came back to her.
He couldn't find the strength to move. The fear overruled the excitement, the joy. He wanted to make sure she knew what had happened before…
He didn't want to make a fool of himself. He rubbed his fingertips together, his jaw clenching, the flicker of skin and muscle moving back and forth. He took a deep breath as she closed the gap between them. She was still leather and gold and pure light, as if nothing had changed. As if the past few months were nothing but painful seconds.
Her brow was still furrowed, confusion slowly finding its exit.
He found his hand moving outwards to her, the most courageous thing he could get his muscles to do. They acted on their own. They fed off her energy, a magnet of goodness, always getting his body to mirror and react. She turned her head, looking at his hand, the skin twitching in fright, but mostly, hope.
Her hand slid into his effortlessly and she let out a small gasp, the long lashes of her eyes fluttering open and closed as it all came together. "Killian, it's you. I–"
"I love you, too," he said, the words tumbling out in a rush of urgent vowels. There were a lot of things he had wanted to say, a lot of things that he had rehearsed in his mind. But not a day went by that he didn't want to make those four syllables a priority.
Emma smiled, her dimples a guiding star reminding him of where he was. Home. She interlocked her fingers with his and pulled his hand towards her chest. The action echoed that of the fearful night when he watched her go but the weight was fleeing now. Still smiling, she kept his hand close to her heart and kissed the tops of his knuckles. His body moved in, his head bowing down and fitting into the crook of her shoulder, his lips kissing her ear then her neck. It was the most natural thing in the world. Her love was instinctual, his brain firing every chemical and electric movement it had been lacking for months. Her body turned and moved into him as they walked back to their loved ones, the familiarity comforting and bringing him back to life.
They moved in a similar rhythm, remembering the light, remembering how well their pieces always fit.