[He meets her gaze for just a moment- a few seconds at most, to take in her quiet words and the softness of her expression. All better. He lets those words circle around in his mind a few times, forcing them to sink in and become reality, mesh with what he sees rather than the horrible memory of her body burned and impaled. When the moment passes and the reassurance sinks in that she is safe, she is healthy, she is alive and not going to die, that he hadn't been helpless and useless to stop it again-
He reaches up and drags her into a hug, holding her close, his grip tight and trembling, face buried against her shoulder. Like this, he can feel her, warm and alive and moving. He can feel a heartbeat pounding- is it hers? Is it his? He can't tell anymore. He doesn't care if it's fake, if she's been hiding or lying or whatever, it doesn't matter. She's here. She's here. Just like she said, she's here. She can talk and smile and live-
With a shudder, he follows her words: he breathes. He breathes, and he holds on, lest she slip from his fingers and be lost to him.]
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He reaches up and drags her into a hug, holding her close, his grip tight and trembling, face buried against her shoulder. Like this, he can feel her, warm and alive and moving. He can feel a heartbeat pounding- is it hers? Is it his? He can't tell anymore. He doesn't care if it's fake, if she's been hiding or lying or whatever, it doesn't matter. She's here. She's here. Just like she said, she's here. She can talk and smile and live-
With a shudder, he follows her words: he breathes. He breathes, and he holds on, lest she slip from his fingers and be lost to him.]