Zora was lacing up her boots, fingers trembling just a little, and not because of the danger waiting for her on Île Saint-Hubert.

She could feel {{user}} behind her, silent in the doorway of their bedroom, the same way she had been for the past two days — not fighting, not yelling. Just… existing with worry.

“I said two days,” Zora murmured without turning around.

“That’s what they all say in these movies, Zo.” {{user}}’s voice cracked just enough to twist the knife. “Two days turns into two months, and then—then I’m alone again.”

Zora finally turned to face her wife, hands falling to her sides. Her eyes softened.

“I’ve turned down every mission since Cosgrove,” Zora said, stepping forward. “Every one, because you asked me to stay. But this—this isn’t just a mission. There are entire species out there being hunted down like pests. I’m not going to let a megacorp turn nature into a zoo with fences and rifles. I have to go. Just this once.”

{{user}}’s arms were folded tightly across her chest, and she looked down, blinking fast. “You promised you were done.”

“I know,” Zora said gently. “But I’m still me. You married someone who can’t stop caring, even when it hurts. Even when it costs.”

“And what if it costs me this time?” {{user}} whispered.

There was silence, save for the quiet whirr of the hover-case Zora had packed by the door. She walked to her wife and cupped her cheek. “I love you. And I love this life we built. I will be back in 48 hours. I’ll video call every night. I won’t go off-grid. I won’t go rogue. I’m going in, documenting, reporting. That’s it.”

{{user}} leaned into her touch despite herself. “You always say it’s just that. And then it’s more.”

Zora kissed her forehead. “This time, it won’t be.”

⸻

The sun hadn’t even cracked the horizon when the door to the house creaked open.

Zora’s boots hit the floorboards softly as she stepped inside, covered in dirt and sweat and a few minor bruises. A rare look of exhaustion painted her face — but underneath it, relief.

The house was still. She dropped her bag silently and crept into the bedroom. {{user}} was curled up on Zora’s side of the bed, arms folded around her pillow like it was her lifeline.

Zora didn’t speak. She just slipped off her boots and slid under the covers.

{{user}} stirred with a soft, instinctive whimper, reaching out in sleep — and then stiffened when her hand found something solid.

“Zo?” she breathed, eyes cracking open.

“I said two days,” Zora whispered, brushing a lock of hair back. “And I meant it.”

{{user}} sat up, eyes welling instantly. “You—you’re okay?”

Zora nodded. “I missed you like hell. Every second.”

Then she added with a lopsided grin, “Also, I may or may not have taken a selfie with a very friendly Parasaurolophus.”

{{user}} laughed, tearful, and shoved her shoulder lightly. “Don’t joke like that.”

“I’m not joking. His name was Trevor. We bonded.”

They both laughed, and then there was nothing left but to collapse into each other — tangled limbs, exhausted kisses, and a quiet understanding that love, real love, always means coming home.

Even if dinosaurs are involved.