A/N: After writing a Jean introspective I was inspired to write this one as well. I just find their relationship interesting. Hope you like :) This is loosely based on the Shania Twain song of the same name.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Still The One
Someone once said to him that the key question in a marriage was not "does she make me happy?" but "do I make her happy?"
If he had been asked that question when they had first married he would have said "yes" without any hesitation. She had been all he wanted and he would have moved heaven and earth to make her smile. Now though he wasn't so sure.
Now he'd probably just say that he didn't make her unhappy.
She seemed to be happy, but he wasn't sure. He didn't know whether the little things he did to show her that he loved her were enough anymore. He saw so little of her now: he was either out on the job or she was busy with other interests.
He never stopped her from pursuing them, sometimes he even encouraged her in these pursuits, because he knew that she wouldn't be happy stuck at home, trailing after him. She had been pretty independent and he didn't want her to lose her sense of freedom.
But there were times that he wondered if he had done the right thing, if by encouraging her he had let her get away from him. But she always came back; was still there for him when he needed her, which he did: more than she would ever know.
He needed to know she was there, his peace of mind and silent support. He needed her to come home to each evening.
He still loved her as much as he had when he married her; though he was aware he never said it enough. Hardly said it at all if the truth be told; that just wasn't his way. He'd still do anything to make her smile, but he wasn't so sure she knew that any more.
He looked up as she entered the room, breaking him from his thoughts.
"What's the matter?" she asked him, he gave her wry smile, she could still read his moods better than anyone else; better even than him at times.
He stood and went to join her; he ran a hand gently across the top of her head. "You know I love you, don't you Jean?" he asked, a little uncertain, resting his hand lightly on her shoulder.
She looked up at him in surprise, "What brought this on?" she asked.
He shrugged a shoulder, "Perhaps I'm just getting old," he told her.
She laughed, "You can't be getting old, that would mean I am too," he smiled at the thought, but his smile didn't quite reach his eyes, she noticed his thoughtful demeanour. "Yes, Jim," she said finally, "I know you love me, I love you too," she added, just in case he wasn't sure of that either.
He smiled and squeezed her shoulder gently, pleased that she still knew; that the little things were enough.
That she still loved him.
Presently he changed the subject.
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A/N: I know it's a little bit of a weird ending, but Jim being Jim would drop a bomb like that and then just move on... :)