The sound of helicopter blades in the distance was the first thing to alert Erik to the fact that something unplanned was happening and he was immediately on the defensive. A few of the other inhabitants of the island peered out from the doorways to their make-shift houses, but with one raised hand, he stood them down.

He approached the helicopter warily, ready to ground it at the first sign of trouble. But just as quickly as it had alighted, it was in the air again, leaving behind but one person. He couldn't make out their identity from this distance and he opened his mouth to call out to them, when they turned around and he felt his heart stop.

"Emily?" he breathed, hardly daring to believe it was really her.

Her face lit up brilliantly and in the next moment, she had her arms wrapped around his neck in the tightest embrace she could manage. Briefly, he was too stunned to move, unable to believe this was really happening, that she was really there. Once he regained control over his limbs, he returned the embrace just as fiercely. "Emily..." he breathed, voice trembling in spite of himself.

She pulled back to look in his eyes, a watery smile crossing her lips before she surged forwards to capture his lips in a searing kiss for the first time in eleven years. Hands on either side of his face, one thumb tracing along the stubble lining his jaw, she kept him close, almost as if she were afraid of him being taken from her again.

One of his hands tangled in her hair, the other hand on her hip, fingers pressing so hard into the skin that they were sure to leave bruises and she absolutely didn't care.

When they finally pulled apart for air, he brushed away the strands of hair that were sticking to the tears on her cheeks. "God, Em," he breathed, "Is it really you?"

A little laugh bubbled up. "It's really me," she whispered.

"After all these years..."

She nodded slowly. "I'm finally here."

"I've waited eleven years to hear you say that..."

All she could do was pull him into another kiss, unable to help herself now that he was finally with her.

Breaking the kiss, he swept her up in his arm, bridal style, making her laugh. She flung her arms around his neck as he carried her towards his – now their – house. "Be careful," she warned him, "I still have internal stitches..."

"Internal stitches?" he repeated, brows raised in concern. "What the hell happened to you, Em?"

She shook her head. "Another time," she said. She didn't want anything to spoil their reunion. "Right now, all I want is to enjoy having my husband in my arms again."

"That's not all you'll have..." he husked near her ear, making heat race to her core.

She groaned softly. "As much as I'd love to have you... I'm under strict orders not to exert myself."

His look of concern only increased, but he didn't say anything though he clearly wanted to. Instead, he replied, "I've waited eleven years for you, I can wait a few more days."

She smiled wickedly. "I'll make it worth every moment..."


For the first time in eleven years, Emily got to fall asleep next to her husband.

From the small window over their bed, the red-orange light of the setting sun spilled into the one room of the make-shift house. The late evening Genoshan heat was tempered by a light breeze through the open window just enough that sleeping curled up against his side wasn't oppressively warm. Not that anything would have stopped her from being close to him just then.

He stroked her back tenderly, fingers tracing up and down the ridges of her spine. Her hand splayed out on his bare chest, feeling his heart beating beneath her palm and, for the first time, she could really believe this moment was real.

"It's taken so long to get here, to have this moment...I'm afraid it's going to be taken from me again," she whispered, hardly daring to disturb the moment lest she shatter it and have it vanish forever, afraid that if she did, she'd find herself back in that warehouse, moments away from dying.

"I'll never let that happen," Erik replied. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I finally have you back, I'm not about to let you go again."

Tears welled up in her eyes in spite of herself and she blinked them back furiously, refusing to let them fall. Hearing her soft sniffles, he sat up, pulling her with him so he could see her properly. With his thumbs, he smudged away her tears.

"Em, there's nothing in this world that I'd let stand between us. I've been without you for far too long, I'd sooner die than be apart again," he said vehemently. He pulled her in for a tender kiss. "So long as I draw breath, I'm not letting you go."

She gave a watery smile, nodding slowly, but couldn't quite form words in the face of the strength of his love for her.

He looked at her like he was trying to memorize every detail of her face, commit them to memory. His fingers ghosted over a mark above her brow. "You have a scar," he said softly.

She had a lot of scars (she hadn't let him see the worst of them – the shamrock, the massive gash across her belly where she'd been stabbed). She didn't say that, though. "I took a two-by-four to the face," she explained.

"A two-by-four?" he repeated.

"It wasn't that bad, really," she insisted. "I mean, it was nothing compared to having my face smashed through a mirror."

"Jesus Christ, Em... What the hell were you doing in that unit?"

She couldn't help the small laugh that bubbled up. "You're one to talk," she pointed out, fingers dancing across fresh scars across his skin.

He laced his fingers with hers, brought her hand up to kiss her knuckles. It seemed they'd both gone through hell to be there, together. Maybe, for now, that knowledge was enough.