Urgency.

That's probably the word for it. Not the only one, though – he's not feeling just one thing right now. There's millions of feelings, all assaulting him at the same time, and Joe can barely think straight.

Warmth. Relief. Rush. Tenderness. Passion.

He could probably suffocate just from the intensity of it all.

Fingers gripping his shirt, a small moan escapes her lips as he keeps kissing her, both hands framing her face, and he thinks he might lose his mind. She moves, then, body arching against his as her own hands travel up his chest, and she starts undressing him.

Chuckling, he throws an arm around the back of her chair, briefly meeting her eyes knowingly to check on her. A small smile on her face, she snuggles closer, resting in the space where his chest met his shoulder, and he focuses on their host again.

"So I guess the conclusion of this story is, don't drink half a bottle of vodka before going back to look for you boat," their host laughs, winking as his wife gives him a reprimanding but amused smile.

"After that story, I certainly won't." Smiling politely, Joe intertwines their fingers together on his lap as the girls run around the garden. Pouring them another cup of coffee, Helen smiles at them.

"So, Juliana, tell me: how did you two meet?"

She smiles back, that pretty, enchanting smile of hers, then squeezes his hand gently underneath the table.

It's okay. We've got this.

"We met in a coffee shop, actually. I was waitressing there."

There's no need to add that they met on a mission the Resistance both put them on, of course, or that they're still working on finding films. There's no need to say that they're aware that Smith already know by now, and that this invitation to celebrate VE day with them is just a way for him to test them.

There's no need, really – so, she doesn't.

"And then one day, this one came and wouldn't leave until I accept a date with him," she rolls her eyes playfully.

As Helen starts to gush on how adorable that is, they smile.

"You can't be serious." She stares blankly at him. "Wow," he breathes, pure confusion on his face as he falls back against her cushions.

Rolling her eyes, she makes a mental note to sign him up for an acting class, because really, wasting such a talent for drama would be a shame.

"Get over it, Joe, it's not that big of a deal," she reasons, nudging his stomach with the foot resting on his lap.

"Of course it is: it's the King! Everybody loves the King."

Shaking her head, she turns her attention back on their small TV.

"Just change the channel, fanboy. President Kennedy's speech is about to start, and I want to see it."

In this universe, he hates her.

"Well played, Juliana," he spits through greeted teeth.

His voice is so cold. "You're a better actress than I thought."

Heart beating a hundred miles an hour, she swallows hard, and tries to stop her hands from shaking. Around them, the agents are getting impatient – she knows it.

"Joe - "

"Then again, I never thought you were a Nazi, either."

"I'm not," she blurts out, because she's not. And she doesn't know who she is anymore, but despite how much she wants to, she simply has no other choice. She just – she had to. She tells him that, because even if he probably doesn't believe her, even if he doesn't care, even if it doesn't change anything, she needs him to know.

But, unsurprisingly, the hatred in his eyes only grows.

"You make me sick."

"I never wanted this to happen," she eventually manages, and she knows she has to stop talking now, because she's going to break down right there, if she keeps going.

There's one more thing he has to know, though. "I'm so sorry."

She feels the tears rolling down her cheeks, but she doesn't wipe them away. Instead, she just focuses on him, on the regrets that are surely going to destroy her, on the images of what could have been.

In another world. Another time.

His eyes never leave hers, and as he utters his last words, she thinks she sees regret in them as well.

"So am I."

A gunshot is fired, and it's all over.

Ignoring the shiver that shakes his entire body, Joe paces, eyes once again flying to the door.

He's going insane.

He doesn't have a watch, of course, and between the anger, the pain, the cold, he has long but lost track of time, but it feels like it has been hours, now. Images of what could been happening – is probably still happening – a few feet above his head, in this damn interrogation room he knows so well come to haunt him once more, and his stomach flips.

Suddenly, the sound of a door being opened somewhere makes him freeze, and he races towards the end of the room as shouts and heavy steps approch.

"Walk!," one of them yells. His heart has never beaten faster, panic and fear taking complete over.

Before he has the chance to look through the small hole on the door, it opens violently, and he can finally breath properly again.

Joe catches her just in time as they throw her back in without consideration.

She's alive, is his first painfully ressuring thought. She's bleeding, quickly comes the second.

"I'm okay," Juliana says before he can even speak, and Joe looks up to meet her eyes. She tries to smile, but he can see the tears strains on her dirty cheeks, the new cuts on her face, and the way her entire body is till shaking.

He swallows hard, anger rising in his chest.

"Son of a - "

"I'm okay," she says again. Smiles, then. "And they sure as hell didn't get anything from me."

Despite everything, Joe smiles back as well.

The first thing she's aware of are the voices downstairs. They're hushed, excited, her sleepy mind notes. Slowly opening her eyes, she looks up to see what time it is, and realizes that she slept well past her usual waking time.

Then again, she didn't exactly have an uneventful evening, the night before.

Wincing, she turns her head to find the other side of the bed unsurprisingly empty, but the door opens and he enters, smiling when he sees she's awake.

"Hey there, sleepyhead," he greets as he comes to sit next to her. Gently pushing a strand of hair out of her face, he leans down and kisses her once, twice, long and tender.

Fingers gripping his forearm, she kisses back, the pit of her stomach warming up, then smiles as he backs away. "How are you feeling?," he asks, eyebrows slightly furrowing in worry as she sits up.

"Well, it feels like a truck ran over my head," she winces again. "But otherwise, I'm fine." His hand moves to her forehead, thumb ghosting over the spot where her head hit the hard floor while they were running away from the Kempetai – again. She can see his eyes cloud with worry. "I mean it, Joe – I'm okay."

He still doesn't look convinced – not that it surprises her – but he nods anyway, and drops his hand to hers. "What's going on down there?"

That, however, seems to lift up his spirits, and, as a huge grin starts to grow on his face, she can't help her heart from speeding up with hope and excitement.

"We found him," he finally says and she waits, waits for him to say it because after all this time, all these months and sacrifices, she can't believe they finally did it.

But, as it turns out, they did.

"We found the man in the high castle."

"I was beginning to worry, you know."

Shaking her head, she smiles, playing along.

"Yeah? And why is that?"

"You didn't attend to me for two days. I thought you had enough and gave me away to nurse Amy for good."

"Those two days are called a week end, which happen to be my days off. Besides, I couldn't give you away even if I wanted to."

She hears it, and, given the cheeky smirk he gives her when she looks up, so did he. "Because that's not how it works," she adds, but can't keep the amusement from her own voice. "So you can wipe that look off your face."

"Whatever you say. So, I have a question for you," he starts again, still looking way too proud of himself. "Is there a mister Juliana?"

Turning to gather what she needs, she chuckles, rolling her eyes at him when their eyes meet before she starts cleaning his wound.

"I don't think you're supposed to ask me things like that, Joe."

"And I don't think you're suppose to like your patients, but you like me," he simply says, all confidence and charm, and the slight warmth in her belly appears on cue to recall her that he's not wrong. "It's okay: I like you too."

Biting her lower lip, Juliana tries to focus on her task.

"You do know that if you distract me, you'll be the one suffering from it, right?"

"So you do admit I distract you." She looks up, caught red-handed. He smirks again.

"You're insufferable."

He laughs at that, and Juliana realizes she already loves that sound far too much.

"I am. I'm also one of the many soldiers that has seen the horrors of that damn world war, and once I'm out of here, I'd like to celebrate the fact that it's finally over. And given that I'm now pretty sure there isn't any mister Juliana – I'd really like to do it with you, if you accept."

He's still smiling adorably like the regular Casanova that he is, but as she looks at him, she sees a sincerity behind his eyes, too. Something real, genuine that's been there since the beginning, behind and despite his whole and grand act he's made a point of bulding.

Containing her smile, Juliane spares him a glance before turning back to his wound. "I'll think about it, Romeo."

He beams.

"You're mad," she says, but he can still see the smile on her lips and in her eyes. There's so much there at that moment: fear, joy, panic.

He smiles back, because he can't help himself.

"I'm not. I mean, sometimes," he cocks his head to the side in admission, and she chuckles at that. "But that, I'm sure of. More sure than I ever been about anything in my entire life, in fact."

She stares at him for a few moments, as if trying to assess him, test him. He holds her gaze, until -

"Okay, then, Joe Blake."

He's already grinning, and swears she's trying not to do so herself. "I'll marry you."