And there, in the middle of all that blue, stood Lucan.
Arms out. Gold catching the strange, shadowless light of the space, dark hair mussed like he'd dragged his hands through it a hundred times, waiting for her to arrive.
"Fel," he said, and his usually measured tone cracked clean down the middle. "There you are."
Her chest did something violent, dropping and lurching all at once, and the sound that tore out of her wasn't a word so much as his name ripped open and thrown across the flowers. She was running before she'd decided to run, blooms whipping her calves, tears blinding her before she reached him, and she launched herself the last few feet, and he caught her, caught her like he'd been standing there specifically built for the purpose, arms clamping around her back, lifting her clean off her feet.
He pressed his face against her shoulder and breathed her in, long and unsteady, his whole body curling around hers like he could fold her inside his ribs and keep her there.
