[ He's always had to carry too much, and for so long that didn't include her, and then for too long it did. He'd always been the one in the small (and the grand planet-wide, century-long) equation who least understood what he might be capable of. There've been times he had good reason for that, and times he didn't. And this is neither of them.

Sabine let one of her hands slide from his cheek, back into his hair, and around part of his neck, pulling him in closer. She doesn't need to quibble that in both worlds, he still has more current-present-removed time on her, or that there's an ocean of time yet to consider whether it is important to tell him of from long before him. None of that is important when she bumps their foreheads together softly. ]

Yes. [ Her thumb strokes against his neck lightly, and she tilts her head just a little so she can look into his eyes from here, dark and blurred and shadowed by firelight. ] Yes. We're both here. And it's all now-now. And that means— [ Her mouth quirks a little sideways. ] That I can tell you that I love you with all of my soul, Jack Townsend, and no part of this is a dream.

[ Not one she has the question if he'll remember. Not one he'll have to question whether was real. Viable. Out of reach. Not even her very best parts of his dreams, or her dreams, or the world they made is as good as knowing this is real. And Sabine tips her face up, careful of brushing her nose against his too hard, to kiss him. ]