"There'll be time for that. There'll be time for everything."
His hand is so warm and delicate on her cheek, and for a moment she allows herself to luxuriate in the feel of his skin on hers. The calmness in his eyes relieves her for a moment, strengthens her belief in him.
But the more she studies him, the more she sees: there is so much more to him underneath that calmness, that sincerity. He is so different from the man she knew, even accepting the physical changes from creature of magic to mortal human. This Rumpelstiltskin is—can it be possible?—darker than the man she knew, a rougher fighter. What could have happened between then and now; what could have possibly been done to him to give him the new sense of purpose?
His hand remains on her skin for only another moment before he releases her, and begins to turn away—but her cheek grows cold and she reaches for him, grabs his arm. He's a little irritated when he turns back, but patient, and for a moment his eyes flicker with a feeling that must be happiness, but it's too unfamiliar for her to properly recognize.
"No." Her mind floods with the sound of his voice, images of his face—how he screamed that no one could love him, how afraid he had been of her love. But here he stands before her, and just seconds ago he had accepted her love, had even repeated it back to her. No, there isn't time for everything. It must happen, and it must happen now.
He half-smiles with curiosity, and she takes his cheek in her hand; he sighs at her touch. "I have two worlds in my head," she begins, slow and measured. "In both worlds, I loved you and I lost you." Her eyes bite and begin to tear. "I can't go through that again." She releases his arm and places her fingers against his cheek, chin, rough with stubble. She explores his face, the way he relaxes slowly into her touch. She feels the hair against his neck, soft as feathers, and fills her hands with it. He turns and presses his lips against her wrist, her forearm, and they fall into each other. Their first kiss, their last kiss, had been nothing compared with this—his mouth possessive on hers, his fingers playing in her hair and holding her close, as close as he possibly can. He's leading and she lets him because all that matters is that she's finally, finally in his arms.