He could hear her talking, but he could hardly register the meaning of the words, too caught up in her very presence. Then those last words came out. He felt those like a blade, tearing open the painful wound her death had left him with. He held her just a little closer, choking on his whispered reply. “I know you did.”
He couldn’t say more than that, could even begin to think how to explain just yet. He wanted - needed, desperately - to apologize for so many things. For sending her to her death, for harsh words and venomous glares being the last thing he’d ever given her in life, for abandoning her to her fate when just maybe, if he’d thought of someone other than himself for one fucking second, he could have saved her. How could he even begin to apologize for something like that?
He could still see her far too pale face, blood smearing from the wound in her throat, her eyes glossing over, and her body had felt so very still…
But she wasn’t dead now. She was very much alive. Peter loosened his hold, drawing back far enough to look her in the eyes - they were bright and clear, and when he cupped her cheek, her skin was warm under his palm. There was still blood at her throat, smeared down onto her shoulder and matting in her hair, but it was drying on her skin, no wound visible now. She was a real mess - a beautiful, bloody, wonderfully alive mess.
Every raw emotion was likely visible on his face - the pain of loss and memory, the shocked elation at seeing her again, the disbelief, because dammit, he knew the fucking Seal threw out curve balls like this, but it had never even crossed his mind that he would have a chance to see Ginger again. The maelstrom of emotions only continued to grow as he stared at her. His thumb stroked against her cheekbone, and he gently tucked a strand of blood-sticky hair behind her ear.
“You’re really here,” Peter said, voice full of wonder. He pulled her in close again, leaning down to kiss her without even thinking about it.