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She is here again.

Staring at this ceiling again.

Round and round they go and she always seems to end up here.

Watching the lines that the light from the chandelier makes as it crosses over the raised moulding, watching the shadows of the curtains on her window warp, change and disappear as the sun sets, watching the unblemished expanse of white even as her heart lies paralysed in its own tangled strings.

At first it had been the nights when her body had felt heavy and yet sleep wouldn't come, her heart tainted by a curse, her soul heavy from the hurt she knew she was causing. The bedroom had felt too large, too empty, too cold-without him, without his warmth- and she had instead taken to lying here on this couch, her body trying to imitate sleep even as her eyes mapped the lines and curves of the chandelier above her, swaying softly when a breeze blew in from her window.

Then, it had been the longest night of her life. Her fingers tracing the shape of the ring in her hands, her eyes dry and burning from the tears she had run out of, staring almost unblinkingly at the colours of the light upon her ceiling as they changed, as the night left and the sun arrived, as the world went on and her heart stayed broken. The weight of a curse lifted from her shoulders but replaced by something far worse.

Round and round they go and she always ends up here.

Tonight too, the chandelier is lit by moonlight, its lights turned off, swaying softly in the breeze from her open window as she lies on the couch. Her back is flat upon it, her jacket doing little to keep her warm but her body unwilling to move to do anything about it.

Round and round they go and she always end up here.

Facing death, facing heartbreak, facing something always.

Round and round they go and she always ends up alone.

By circumstance or by choice.

It is by choice tonight that she lies here by herself. She is often fairly exhausted after her talks with Archie but today had been more difficult than usual, her body and her mind tired from it, from allowing herself to feel all the things that had been pushed aside in the name of the next crisis. And the next and the next.

So she had declined to join Killian and her father on patrol, choosing instead to rest here.

She has begun to sense when it is about to start. Her heart beats faster, her limbs feeling impossibly light, cold before her hand begins to shake. The visions are less startling now that she has seen them a hundred times but they still leave her breathless and panicked.

She feels it come on again. The same feeling of dread overcoming her as she raises her hand above her. Silhouetted by the moonlight arcing over the walls from her window, it is even more apparent when the first tremor runs through her arm before her fingers begin trembling in earnest.

It feels just like it does each time. Like she is losing control.

And just like every time, she tries to snatch it back. Her eyes squeeze shut and she pulls her hand back to her stomach, clutching at her wrist with her other hand, forcing it still. But even through her grip she can feel it move without her consent, feel the nightmare encroaching upon the space behind her closed eyelids.

The sword, the hood, the blood.

She never stops seeing her family watch her die.

Round and round they go.

Watching her disappear into a curse. Watching her lose herself to darkness. Watching her lose him. Watching her kill him.

And now again.

When does it end, she wonders, her teeth clenched, her eyes squeezing tighter, trying to dissolve the nightmare away. Her breath held in her throat, she presses harder and harder but it is especially stubborn today, unwilling to leave her no matter how hard she tries.

The sound of swords clanging floods her mind. Her body feels too small, too weak to fight this. She feels the sword pushing through her skin and-

The couch dips on the other end when he sits, her legs moved into his lap softly before his hand closes over her fingers that are clutching at one another, trying to keep control. The warmth of his hand blankets hers and finally, she begins to breathe. Harsh and fast and shallow as his hand untangles both of hers, winding his own fingers between her own instead, his hook running slowly up and down her leg, soothing her. Calming her.

Eventually her breath slows and even though she can't see him, she knows he's watching her. His face replacing the visions of her death in her mind's eye, concern knitting his brows, his eyes scanning her body, looking for something, anything that he can help her with.

She squeezes his hand tighter in answer to the silent question he is asking and doesn't let go. Instead she pulls on his hand, pulls him into her until he falls on his side, his hook rising in the air to avoid piercing the couch cushions, legs shifting sharply under her as he falls.

She opens her eyes and his face now fills her vision instead of the blankness of her ceiling. His face and his slightly wide eyes, his mouth open, surprise melting into a soft chuckle as he steadies himself, his hook coming around her other side, his breath visible in soft clouds in the cold of the room.

His laugh falls into a smile, a tiny curving of his mouth, his eyes laced with concern and she cannot help but return it with a small smile of her own. Moonlight plays upon his face, one side lit and the other disappearing into shadow, their hands are still clasped, lying diagonally across her chest and stomach, her other hand on his shoulder.

His fingers only press closer to hers, not letting her go either. Instead he bumps her nose with his, making her puff a laugh against his lips.

"Are you alright love?"

It's nothing.

I'm fine.

It's just stress.

The lies rest on the tip of her tongue, ready to deflect, to change the conversation, to keep the weight on her shoulders steady, to spare her family the pain she carries with her every day.

But tonight, she doesn't lie.

She shakes her head.

No.

Tonight, she doesn't need to lie.

She had told him last night, the secret spilling out from her in a moment of drowning weakness on her part, in a moment of frustrated concern on his, in the midst of fierce kisses and fiercer promises. She hasn't gotten quite used to it yet, having someone share this particular burden with her but it gets easier every time he asks.

So tonight she doesn't lie and he doesn't either.

His eyes fall shut, his forehead falling too, resting against hers as his lips brush gently against hers as he speaks.

"I'm here."

The hand on his shoulder drifts to his face, her fingertips ghosting over his closed eyes, his cheeks, his lips.

"I know."

Her voice is a kiss, a breath against his lips, words that exist just for the space between them. His eyes open to look at her, moving across her face. His own face is twisted into something that makes her want to comfort him even as he's looking, searching, trying to find a way to help her.

There will be time for words later but for now, her hand on his shoulder moves to the back of his neck, fingers burying themselves in his hair, coaxing him just the tiniest inch closer until their lips meet.

The first touch of his lips is light. Soft and warm as he kisses her slowly, soft presses of his mouth against hers, pulling her upper lip in between his as they pull back and sway together. Again and again, his head tilting to somehow get closer to her, her head lifting off the couch, chasing his touch.

But then they try to speak, try to say to each other the things that they've said out loud a thousand times, try to mark each other with the words they know are already etched into their own souls.

I love you.

I'm here for you.

We'll get through this.

Don't leave me.

I'm sorry.

Her breath is caught in her throat as she pushes closer to him, even as he presses her into the cushions. Her hand moves down his back, her other releasing his to rest on his chest instead, pulling on the lapels of his jacket, trying to get impossibly closer.

It is so much like the bright, sunny afternoon from a few days ago. Their bodies swaying on the couch, pushing and pulling into one another, trying to stay as close as possible. So much the same and yet so different. Whereas that day all they had wanted was to be able to love one another, happy and excited, tonight they clutch at each other as if they were about to be pulled away from one another.

Round and round they go.

He pulls away for a moment to catch his breath, his lips finding her jaw instead, her own lips pressing against the corner of his mouth when it starts again, the hand resting on his chest beginning to tremble.

She wants to scream. Frustration, fear and a crippling helplessness burn through her, licking across her spine. She begins to pull away, ready to hide again but before she can move, she feels his hand close around her shaking one.

Her eyes shoot open as she watches him. His hand is wrapped loosely around her still shaking fingers, the warmth of it and the cold of his rings enveloping them. His brows are scrunched, his mouth slightly swollen from their kiss, his eyes shifting to meet hers as he pulls her hand up to his lips.

He presses his lips to her knuckles, feather light kisses to her fingers that feel like a warm blanket settling over her shoulders. Her eyes fall shut, her hand still shaking with its tremors but softer now. She feels him bend closer to press a kiss to her forehead, soft and lingering as her hand in his now rests against his heart.

"I'm here," he says again, fiercer this time. She doesn't know if he is trying to reassure her or himself.

And when she kisses him in response, she doesn't know who she is reassuring either. It doesn't seem to matter though. They hold one another up, his hand holding her steady and her kiss keeping him strong.

Round and round they go.

When she pulls away from him, her eyes shine from unshed tears but he's smiling at her as he wipes away the stubborn ones that do manage to escape.

"We can beat this love. Together. I'm not losing you again, I won't hear of it."

And despite herself, despite the certainty of the oracle's words ringing through her mind, despite the nightmare that lives at the edges of her vision, she finds herself smiling back before leaning up and pressing a small kiss to his smile.

Even though his eyes are laced with a little uncertainty, a little fear, they burn with a fierce faith that makes her want to believe. That this time, she will pull out of this constant orbit that her story throws her into. That this time, she has a safe place to land.

Her hand squeezes his and her heartbeats steady.

She does not stand alone.