[She has fallen in love quickly before, but it's always come to a crushing halt. Usually leaving her still in love but alone. Maybe if other things had been going better—a world less broken, a family she hadn't lost, her freedom—she might have been able to pick up the pieces faster. Instead, it's a little harder each time to let herself be that open again. But it doesn't mean she's given up on love or trust.
She presses closer, still kissing him. Fingers sliding into his hair. Something she hasn't thought about but is responding to is the fact that the years have further separated him from how Nathan looked. There's less resemblance to the boy that was more like a son than anything to her which is extremely welcome in this moment of kissing Chekov.]