A/N: My angsty contribution to the third anniversary of the I Love You from TFP. Rated K+.
She crawls into bed, eyes raw and red from crying, throat scratchy, stomach unsettled from a combination of emotional turmoil and half a bottle of really bad red she'd been too frugal to just dump down the drain.
What was Sherlock trying to do, destroy her? Wreck her emotionally? Unbalance the delicate equilibrium she thought they'd achieved in their relationship?
Or had she been a fool to believe they had any kind of a relationship at all?
We're friends, you're my friend!
Well, friends didn't do that sort of thing to one another. They didn't demand gut wrenching confessions of love from one another. They didn't…
"I love you, Molly."
His voice is weary, gravelly, thick with clotted tears. She sits up. Turns on the light. Regards him as he stands in the doorway of her bedroom. Sees the dark circles under his eyes, the weariness in his posture, the carefully bandaged knuckles on both his hands - but it's not what she sees that brings her to her feet, it's what she hears.
Sincerity. Without being prompted. "You're saying it like you mean it," she says, standing next to her bed while she waits to hear what he has to say in his defense. If anything.
He bows his head. "I do mean it," he rasps. "I wanted you to know that. No matter what else comes of tonight, I wanted you to know that I meant it. I mean it. It's true, so I'm saying it anyway."
She crosses the room. Takes him gently by the arm. Brings him to her bed and helps him remove jacket, shoes and socks. Lies next to him, not touching, but their faces only inches apart.
"Tell me what happened, Sherlock. Tell me why. It's the only way we'll move past this…and then, when you're finished, I'll say it back to you."
Never removing his eyes from hers, he tells her the entire horrible tale.
When he finishes, she remains silent. Taking it all in. Then she reaches out and finally allows herself to touch him. To caress his cheek with the tips of her fingers. His eyes close, but the breath he releases sounds relieved.
"I love you, Sherlock Holmes," she says softly. The second time she's said the words. "I love you."
They've each said it three times now. The curse has been lifted, and they can navigate the waters ahead without the added weight of uncertainty slowing them down.