"I do mean it. We don't have to save holding each other for comfort and crisis. I'd just like to hold you." Whatever magic is being woven prevents from sinking into her own head when he looks at anything but her. Where he's self-conscious, she isn't, for once. The most important thing - the only thing, really - is that they're together. And that he's... Connor.

Cupping his cheek, she strokes his skin with her thumb as blue eyes are transfixed by brown. She picks up on his repetition enough to think she should choose her words more carefully. Except there are just so many things she wants to say. All these little notions that are blooming like the first buds of spring.

Should she feel this compelled? Maybe not. Does she consider that it might be yet another product of the island? Slightly. Momentarily. Vaguely.

Maybe it's only bringing what's already there to the fore.

Words. She was going to choose words more carefully.

"I don't want to scare you away," she murmurs. "I'd never want you to feel you need to become involved in anything you don't understand or aren't ready for. Or something you just don't want, not really. But I need to tell you how special you are. How much you mean to me. Even if we're never anything more than friends, I need to you know."