This chapter has been edited considerably. Please review.

In those first moments of his seeing, her relief that Edward was indeed requited with this miracle, which had, not long ago, seemed utterly unimaginable, was so acute, that the tears she had attempted to hold back flowed freely from the corners of her eyes. He broke his kiss and stared voraciously: hardly blinking so as not to miss perceiving her image for even a fraction of a second. She placed her hand on his, which meaningfully coveted her face. Her happiness for him was so thoroughly intense that it spilled into her countenance as a reverential look of heartfelt love and joy. Her sob broke into a laugh as she reached with her other hand to wipe away the tears that trickled from his own eyes and forced back the anxiety she felt over the possibility of their intimacy somehow waning due to the new independence his regained sight may afford him. She would not let any form of lachrymosity detract from this happiest of moments.

Edward's awe and mixed feelings of disbelief, ecstasy, and extreme religious gratitude were so intense that his chest began to constrict and his face screwed up trying to suppress the momentous bursts of laughs, gasps and sobs that were all fighting to burst out. It was the first time he had seen Jane in nearly three years. To once again behold his little fairy, seeing her for the first time in their married life together, was thrilling and restorative. He smiled at her. "My Jane," he said possessively. He cocked his head to one side, forever content to just look at her, his eyes swimming. "I can't believe how beautiful you are." His need to just see her face was insatiable.

She had been the only thing that connected him with the world around him for so long. He had depended on her for everything, and it made him happy just to touch her and know that she was there, she was real, his life with her wasn't and illusion. There had been nothing else; there would be nothing else. And yet, while he had been exultantly happy that she had returned, delivering him from his miserable, sorrowful state to form the blissful married life they had enjoyed over the last two years, he longed to return every attention she'd ever paid him. The feelings that the idea of him being able to fulfill these wishes aroused were indescribable.

There was nothing to say. Words were not enough; so they sat in silence while Edward looked his fill. His eyes followed his hand as it slid from her cheek to her neck. He felt as he looked, connecting what he'd seen with his hands for the last two years with what he could finally discern with his eye. The colors were vibrant: the flashing green in her eyes, steady on his, the rosy pink staining her face, the creamy whiteness of her skin that glowed in the fire light. Her neck was thin and fragile, her shoulders small and square, not quite so frail as they had been all that time ago in Hay Lane when he had deigned to accept their aid. Her dress was green linen: casual and elegant. He'd never seen her so lovely.

Edward would never be able to explain his next sudden revelation. He would never know why the idea chose that moment to penetrate his thoughts, or why it hadn't been the very first thing to enter his mind that night, but he abruptly realized that he had never physically seen his wife. He knew her features, her face. He loved the look of her, and he had always appreciated the sensation that running his fingers over the soft contours of her cheek, her nose, her brow, her lips gave him; the small glimpse this afforded him of her physical form, her countenance and expression. And on their wedding night they discovered a level of connection between them that would have been unimaginable to them before that time. His inability to see her hadn't detracted from the experience in the slightest; it even put them, oddly, on the same level of inexperience and vulnerability. But now he wanted to add this new dimension: the vibrant color, the witnessing of each other in their naked weakness. Nothing would be hidden anymore; there would be no dark void dividing them in both that night or in their future together.

He continued to look; acquisitively searching, discovering. She saw his child-like look of wonder and his need; she understood what he felt. She could only imagine the tempestuous gathering of emotion that he must be experiencing. Jane took his hand and placed it on her waist. She in turn put her arms around him and succumbed to an embrace that let loose the tension of the previous moment. Relinquishing her hold, she undid the buttons of her dress, saving him the embarrassment of awkwardly helping to undress her with his one hand, as was her ritual in such circumstances. Then, undoing each button of his shirt with concentration, she knew he understood that she was giving him permission. They were of one body, one mind, one heart.