A/N: Something of a continuation of the previous scene, though this one was written months before.
Certainty
I struggled to my feet, the certainty of what to do giving me the strength I did not know I possessed. I prayed for courage, reaching out to the broken man before me. He flinched as I touched him, whirling around as if to challenge me once more. Without hesitating I drew him towards me, cradling his poor head in my hands. His mouth was rough and uncertain against mine, but warm and alive despite his dead appearance. When he would not hold me I pressed myself tightly to his chest, wishing I could soothe his pain with my touch. He trembled, but did not pull away when I lowered his head once more, our lips meeting a second time. I caressed every inch of his face and sparse hair, accepting with my hands what I had once shied away from in fear and misunderstanding. It was he who withdrew first, the wonder in his expression bringing fresh tears to my eyes.
