She gives up, utterly, on trying to be collected and calm about this; the tears have been held back too long, and he's here with her-- her, the size of an elephant and covered in snot-- holding her like she's precious, teasing her like they haven't spent months apart and hours locked in misunderstandings.

God, she loves him. If she made herself say it a thousand times it would still feel like an understatement.

"Holidays are special occasions." She's crying, and she's laughing a little, an odd sound like a hiccup. "Not near-death experiences."