When she meets him, after the rescue.
"So this is you. Hunh." She thinks, surprised at the sudden quiet that envelops this moment she had thought about for 18 years.
He nods. Smiles. He wants to reach out to her, she wants to reach out to him, but they both know how dangerous touching can be. Besides, he is anchored on the car's trunk; the Evil is still locked inside but has stopped kicking for the moment.
“I’m not safe anymore” echoes between them. But then, she's certain it's only coming from her, and only as a reflex. He saved her. Her body was weary from the adreneline of that unknown space in the darkness. She was certain she would stay alive, until the moment she was certain she was going to be killed.
He was dressed in a gray sweatshirt and jeans. Baggier than she imagined, sagging, a few days growth of stubble that did not blend with the bearded parts of him.
She remembered the slight astygmatism. Wondered all her life if it was an indication of schizophrenia. A telltale sign of CRAZY.
But he seemed what he was. A gentle giant version of himself. A grown man, HIs beautiful blonde curls might have had a hint of grey, but there was no balding that she could see. He needed a haircut, although his hair might be naturally unruly no matter what.
That glowing smile of his, the one she thought about in the darkness, it was the same.
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