In her arms again, he can almost pretend the last week or so was a bad dream, and right now he's happy to get lost in that. She's felt like home for a long time, but there's an added rootedness, a sense of returning from a long journey and seeing things he couldn't without leaving. Not the way he wanted to get that insight, but he was happy to be having it instead of being in the back of a transport.

"I know," he murmurs, eyes closing as he enjoys the soft touch on his cheek. "Because I'm the same."

He wants a bath, and he wants rest, and so he reluctantly pulls away, but not without taking her hand. There's something calming to going another room deeper into the ship, locking another door as he turns on the tap and puts a heavy scoop of jasmine and lavender salts into the tub.

When he looks back, there she is, his savior, his love, his world, gleaming in the afternoon sun like a painting. He closes the space between them, seizing her and kissing her hard as his hands move to gently undo the fastenings on her clothes. There's a fresh round of tears on his cheeks, but these aren't all for sorrow. "I must have done something to please the gods," he murmurs, "For them to let our paths cross."