A/N: Hello, gentle readers! Here is my entry for the 1000-word story contest run by the good people over at the Castle Hiatus Writing Contest blog on Tumblr. This was a great exercise for me, seeing as how the word count was way lower than my usual. It was also a good lesson in scalability, since my story took on this big unestablished mythology element that was very hard to squeeze into 1000 words, but I tried anyway. :)

Big thanks to my beta, idelthoughts, and congrats to the winners, ArgylePirateWD, binz, and shiplizard! Go read their stories over on AO3.

WORLD ENOUGH, AND TIME

Paris in the springtime was beyond beautiful, but Jo was in no mood to explore it. She leaned on the railing of a bridge over the Seine, half-expecting Henry to burst through the water's surface and wade ashore buck naked. She wondered if Parisians would even bat an eye.

Was this where he'd been for the past three weeks? What was he doing here?

For that matter, what was she doing here?

—

"I have a theory." They were lying in bed, listening to the city at night.

Jo smiled into Henry's chest. "Don't you always? What's the topic this time?"

"I can't say just yet, but it requires some travel to test it. I don't know how long I'll be away."

"Are you coming back?" Her tone was teasing; the question was not.

"I always come back, darling. That's why you keep a half-dozen towels in your car."

"That's not an answer, Henry."

He responded with a kiss and held her close. "Trust me."

—

She was aware of his presence the moment he brushed the edge of her senses, maybe even the moment before. Relief that he was safe and walking towards her gave way to a wave of anger; he'd left for weeks and weeks and didn't trust her enough to explain why.

He must have seen the range of emotions play across her face, because he tempered his own excited smile. He leaned on the railing beside her, mirroring her posture.

"You found it."

"Yeah, I found it." She dangled the object in question between them by its chain. "Do I win a prize? What was the point of planting your watch and sending me on a worldwide scavenger hunt?"

"I didn't plant it."

"Fine, Lucas did it for you, but—"

"Not Lucas." His smile was fighting its way back, and her curiosity won out.

"Henry, tell me what's going on."

—

She had been groping under the booth for her fallen jacket when her fingers found something smooth and cool instead.

"Mike, was this you?" She shouted her question over Lucas's heartfelt cover of "Don't Stop Believin'." She held Henry's watch in her palm.

"Come again?" Hanson turned to look at her. "Wow, Henry let you keep that while he's at his conference? It must be love." He turned back to the stage, unconcerned and apparently innocent.

Only once she was standing on the sidewalk outside did she open the engraved cover and find a piece of paper wedged inside. She dislodged it and unfolded it once, twice, and read the message by dim streetlight.

I need you. Find me in the best place to get lost.

All my love, H.

Henry's handwriting was unmistakable, and so was his meaning.

She needed a passport.

—

"You say you found it in Hanson's awful karaoke bar? Fascinating."

"Why am I here, Henry? Why are you here? What kind of 'theory' do you test with cloak-and-dagger messages?"

"Jo, I died without my watch, and I was nowhere near New York or Paris."

She blinked, nonplussed. "What? Where were you?"

"Duluth." He shivered unconsciously, and she wondered how cold Lake Superior was in April. "After I awakened, I came to Paris and waited. For you."

"If you lost your watch in Duluth, how the hell did it end up under a booth at Manny's?"

Henry was smiling in earnest now. "Excellent question. The answer is, I don't know. It must have passed from hand to hand until—well, the details aren't important. I only know that it found its way back to you."

She still felt two steps behind. "What does that prove? That your watch is magic?"

"Not the watch, Jo—you." He wrapped both his hands around the hand holding his watch. "This was my father's, and his father's before him." She nodded; she knew this story. "It was Abigail who first returned it to me. Before I met her, I had no place in the world, and when she left I feared I never would again—until I met you. Now, my watch comes back to you. That's as mysterious to me as my own condition, but I've observed it to be true. I don't know about magic, but I believe you're something better. Together we're something better. I think you feel it too."

She looked at him, truly looked, for the first time since he'd arrived. He was right. She was drawn to him, and it was more than simple attraction or even friendship. Her anger and fear melted away on a sigh when she realized that for once, Henry hadn't been running away. He'd been trying to prove that he never could.

"Why did you write 'I need you' in your note? I thought you were in serious trouble."

He had the good grace to look contrite. "Would you ever have come to Paris with me otherwise?"

"No, you romantic idiot, probably not." A thought suddenly occurred to her. "Wait, are you about to propose?"

"No. Not until you look a bit less panicked at the thought." He tightened his grip on her hand. "This is where I tell you that I love you, and I'm yours for as long as you'll have me."

A smile crept across her face. "Good answer." She kissed him sweetly, and then more than sweetly, because they were in Paris, and because she never tired of hearing him say "I love you." She knew she never would.

Jo tucked the watch into his waistcoat pocket, her fingers lingering a moment in that intimate space, and threaded the chain through a buttonhole. When she met his eyes again, his gaze was filled with all the happy gratitude he would surely try to find words for later. For now, they were together, and that was enough.

"As long as we're here…" Jo wrapped one hand around his scarf and took a few steps backwards, pulling him with her.

"Yes?"

"Come on, Henry. Let's get lost."

THE END