A/N: Set post series 5. The museum mentioned is a real place. Title from America's "Sister Golden Hair".

Just Enough to Show You Care

Matt should have realised something was wrong.

Becker's genuine joy and relief at their making it through convergence largely unscathed had subsided into a strange sort of subdued, determined focus. It was less like his typical professionalism when they had a job to do and more like... defensiveness. While they were at King's Cross, he didn't smile or tease or take part in the general air of happiness exhibited by the rest of the team. Matt assumed he was only coming down from the stress of the past few days in his own way, but he should have known better.

He should have known something was wrong.

For his part, Matt was trying not to think about anything. There was so much going through his mind that he couldn't process any of it. He suspected at some point he was probably going to collapse under the weight of everything but for now he was content to laugh with his teammates and know that they were all okay.

When they got back from King's Cross, exhausted but still in high spirits, Becker edged silently away from the others. He glanced briefly into Lester's office and then took a wide berth around Jess' station, making his way farther into the ARC.

Matt politely distanced himself from everyone and followed after Becker. He located him in the locker room and sat down on a bench. He watched Becker open his locker, aware that this was the first time he had been able to truly be alone with his lover since before the revelation of Matt's origins. There had been no time to discuss it, no time for Matt to actually speak to him about it personally, as Becker deserved. Becker had been all business, his face as perfectly stoic as when Matt had first met him.

To be honest, Matt had no idea of how Becker would react now that he had the luxury to deal with it. He wasn't stupid enough to expect Becker to simply ignore it, but he did have the small hope that Becker would... accept it.

Later he would acknowledge how naïve that was of him.

Matt sat quietly while Becker changed out of his combats. He expected Becker to make a joke or some sort of sarcastic comment, but when Becker turned around his face was eerily blank.

Oh, damn. Becker wanted to talk about it now. Matt could sense already that it was going to be awkward and painful. He was too drained for this kind of thing. Couldn't Becker wait until after they'd slept? Preferably for an entire day.

"You should have told me."

"I'm sorry, Becks, but you know why I didn't."

"You had no problem telling Abby. Or Emily," Becker spat out with venom that was unmistakably rooted in jealousy.

Matt sighed. "That's different."

"How? How is it different?"

"My mission was more important than anything. Anything. I couldn't jeapordise it, which means I couldn't tell anyone unless I had to, even if I wanted to." And I wanted to.

Becker scoffed and Matt couldn't really blame him. It had been a feeble excuse that had barely even touched on what Becker had actually asked. "Oh, right. So I was good enough to fuck but not to trust? I get it, thanks for the explanation."

"That's not what I-"

"I'm sorry that I have actual feelings, I guess maybe things are different in the future. I wouldn't know." Becker stalked off to the door, pausing with one hand on the doorjamb and his back to Matt. "And Matt? The next time you're in the mood for a shag, do me a favour. Don't call me."

Matt stood in horrified silence before rushing out after him. "Becker… Becker!" But the corridor was empty save for Emily.

She followed him into the locker room, face full of sympathy. "He seemed upset."

Matt snorted. "Just a little. I suppose he has a right to be."

"You did what you thought was best."

"I wish Becker understood that."

"He does," Emily insisted, her brown eyes looking wide and sad and desperate. "He's just hurt. He cares about you, Matt."

Matt let his breath leave his body in a long exhale. "Yeah." Maybe that had been true at one point, but Matt wasn't so sure it still was.

"I know you care about him, too. I think maybe you need to remind him of that."

"And how exactly am I meant to do that?" Matt asked, mostly rhetorically, while Emily stroked his arm.

He knew one thing for certain. His bed was going to feel very lonely tonight when all he had wanted was to curl up with Becker and forget convergence had ever happened.

Matt knew he was somewhat lacking in social skills. It wasn't his fault, for obvious reasons. But it did make living in this time difficult. It made his relationship with Becker - trying to fix his relationship with Becker - difficult.

He didn't even know where to begin.

So he tried food. He got takeaway from a Thai place that Becker liked and brought it to him, to the gym on one of the ARC's lower levels where Becker was pounding on a punch bag.

Matt watched for a moment, admiring Becker's lean, graceful form and the play of muscles across his shoulders, and then said, "You've been in here a while."

Becker grunted.

"Almost the entire morning, even, Jess said."

"So you're spying on me, then?"

"I'm… We're concerned, that's all."

Becker threw a particularly forceful right cross that sent the bag spinning and made Matt wince. "Don't be. I can take care of myself."

"No one's saying you can't."

Becker turned around and started ripping the tape off his hands. "Then what the fuck are you saying? I don't need you, Matt."

That stung a lot more than Matt wanted to admit. He held up the bag. "I brought you lunch. I thought you should eat."

"So much for letting me take care of myself."

Matt set the takeaway down onto a bench and backed away. "It's just lunch. Eat, okay? You've certainly burned off enough calories." He turned around and left, wondering whether he was fooling himself that he had even a chance of earning Becker's forgiveness.

Matt tried a few more times to bring Becker meals but always to similar, unsatisfactory results. He never quite dared to try asking Becker to dinner.

Over the course of their friendship and, later, their relationship, Matt and Becker had got in the habit of bringing each other coffee in the morning and sharing tea breaks. Now, however, Becker was clearly not simply ignoring Matt but was actually taking pains to avoid him. The fourth time Matt drank Becker's not sweet enough cup of tea, Jess approached him timidly and said that she thought Becker was using the CCTV to get away from him. Matt felt something seize in his chest and looked away from her painfully concerned gaze.

And yet the next morning, Matt still caught himself pouring two mugs full of coffee, the habit so ingrained that he was doing it even knowing Becker was intentionally monitoring the CCTV for the sole purpose of evading Matt. His hand shook as he set the pot down and he stared at the two steaming mugs.

Someone cleared their throat and Matt raised his eyes to see Lester. "Do you need both of those?"

Matt's gaze strayed again to the unnecessary extra coffee and then he shook his head, picking it up and holding it out. "I really don't."

The mug had a cartoon Triceratops on it. Matt remembered Becker buying it, the way he had smiled. He hasn't seen Becker smile in almost a week.

Lester took it and stirred in a splash of cream. "Is this going to be a problem? Captain Becker and yourself?"

Matt wasn't even surprised that Lester knew. He imagined there was little that went on in the ARC that Lester didn't know about. It probably helped that Lester had Lorraine Wickes and Jess Parker willing to tell him everything he wanted to know. "No, James. It won't be a problem."

Lester assessed him over the rim of his mug before nodding sharply. "I hope you're correct. This is precisely why I frown upon office relationships."

"You don't need to worry about us. We'll do our jobs." We just won't ever speak to each other for any other reason, Matt thought sadly. He hadn't realised how much of his day he spent with Becker until Becker was no longer around.

"I suppose I don't need to tell you that I won't hesitate to make changes should that prove not to be the case."

"No, you don't."

"Mr Anderson," Lester started, his expression losing some of its sternness. "Matt, I'd like to think that I know Becker fairly well. I don't think that... You shouldn't give up on him," he said before dropping his eyes from Matt's face.

"Thank you," Matt said, for lack of anything else to say. He might not have been surprised before, but he was now.

"Yes, well," Lester said and took a sip of his coffee to hide his face, turning around and leaving.

The single cup of coffee resting on the counter seemed terribly forlorn. Matt dumped it into the sink, feeling ill.

Given that food had proven to be unsuccessful, Matt decided to move on to sports and beer. Honestly Matt couldn't care less about football or rugby or any of it, but he had always enjoyed watching how invested Becker became in the games, cheering and yelling and cursing and generally being as animated as he ever got. Matt had also appreciated Becker's method of celebration whenever his team won.

His guts twisted at the thought that he might never experience that again.

They were all simply standing around Jess' station after a shout, Abby fussing at a cut on Connor's cheek, Becker smiling at Jess, Matt watching Becker and Emily watching Matt. Emily watched Matt a lot these days, like he was a baby bird in need of guidance and protection.

Matt said casually (he hoped), "Anyone up for watching football at the pub? First round's on me."

Everyone fell silent and looked at Becker. Sometimes Matt hated his friends.

"Not me, I'm knackered," Becker said and swept off in the direction of Lester's office.

Well. Apparently now even Lester was more appealing than Matt. The rest of the team's sympathetic gazes were boring into his skull.

"I'm paying for all of your drinks tonight, mate," Connor said and clapped Matt on the back.

Three hours later, Matt was pissed and maudlin, drunk on Guinness and whisky. He was probably going to regret the pathetic narration of his relationship with Becker he was currently regaling his friends with, but that didn't stop him doing it.

He was also going to regret the hangover, which he knew would be epic. It didn't stop him from ordering another drink even after Connor suggested that he'd probably had enough. It was about time Matt got a chance to just completely fall apart. He'd had enough of responsibility for one lifetime and he felt he was owed a night of drunken stupidity.

Matt thought that he would rather feel like shit because of too much alcohol than because his lover hated him.

It figured that someone would get hurt on what was the easiest shout Matt could remember having in ages. And, because this was how Matt's life was going at the moment, it would be Becker.

A small group of early mammals that Connor had identified as Triconodons had come through, furry little things less than half a metre long. The hardest part was rounding them up before they got lost in the trees, which seemed to be their preferred habitat. They were chasing down what they thought - and fervently hoped - was the last one when Becker fell on his face, having stepped in what looked to be a rabbit hole.

"Fuck," Becker said, grimacing and reaching for his ankle. He waved away Matt's assistance. "It's nothing, just go after the bloody thing!"

So Matt did, with Jess saying into his ear, "Is everything all right?"

"Becker had a bit of an accident, nothing serious."

Moments later, Matt heard Emily's triumphant voice. "I've got it! I'll bring it back to the anomaly now."

"Need any help?" Matt asked.

"I am not so much of a lady that I can't carry this little fellow on my own. Go and help Becker; I'll meet you at the site."

Matt bit back a smile while Becker protested, "I don't need anyone's help!"

But Matt jogged in his direction anyway, slowing as he caught up to Becker's limping form. "Broken or sprained?" It was lucky he hadn't hurt his wrists with the way he'd fallen.

"How should I know?" Becker cast an irritated glance at Matt. There was dirt all down his front but his hair was still perfectly gelled into place. "It sodding hurts, that's all I care about at the moment."

"Let me help you," Matt said and tried to take some of Becker's weight.

Becker shoved him away. "Don't bother."

Matt stared after him, trying to ignore the ache in his chest, and then started walking again, slowly so that Becker remained just in front of him. When Becker stumbled on the uneven ground as they neared the anomaly, Matt tried again. "Becker, just let me-"

"I don't need your help! Jesus, Matt, just bugger off, will you?" Becker glared at him, his face flushed in anger and embarrassment.

"Are you guys okay?" Abby called as she saw them approaching from where she was standing with Connor. "We heard on the comms that Becker had an accident."

Glancing sideways at Becker, Matt told her, "He twisted his ankle, won't let anyone help."

Becker sighed loudly and dramatically. "Connor! As Mother Matt can't bear the thought of poor old me walking on my own, get over here and give me a hand before he pisses himself."

Connor's big brown eyes darted to Matt before he let one arm hover uncertainly behind Becker's back. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather have Matt?" He winced at his unfortunate choice of phrasing.

"Help or don't, makes no bloody difference to me." Becker started to make his unsteady way forward again and Connor rushed to wrap an arm around him. After a few seconds, Becker reluctantly put his arm around Connor's shoulders and leaned into him.

Abby fell silently into step next to Matt.

Matt kept his eyes focused on Becker's back. "He's never going to forgive me."

"Don't say that. He's only being stubborn."

"That's the problem," Matt said wearily. "I have a feeling that Becker can be stubborn the rest of his life if he wants to be."

Watching Becker hobble around the ARC on his sprained ankle was one of the most pathetic things Matt had ever seen. The medics had forced him into using crutches (that had been a hell of a conversation to witness) but Becker abandoned them the instant he was allowed.

Matt brought Becker ice once, when Becker was seated behind his desk with his foot propped up. A spasm of emotions Matt couldn't even begin to decipher crossed Becker's face before he wiped them away, tossing the ice into the bin (rather immaturely, Matt thought, as it would surely melt and make a mess). "Thanks for the concern but it isn't necessary."

Matt wanted to shout because how bloody stubborn and stupid could one person be? Instead he walked straight back out of Becker's office, found Emily, and asked her to bring Becker ice and make sure he actually used it.

Emily looked at him with pity in her eyes, the same way all of them looked at him now. Matt walked away and thought that maybe he was actually the most pathetic thing in the ARC.

"He hates me," Matt muttered.

He was sitting on the sofa in his flat next to Emily, in front of the TV he had finally bought so Becker would stop complaining every time he was over. It wasn't as if Becker even watched much TV, but he got irritable when he missed his rugby and apparently it was 'weird' not to have a TV.

The first thing they had watched on it had been a big, silly action film filled with explosions and car chases. They had laughed their way through it and then had memorably athletic sex on the sofa until they'd fallen off. The bruise on Matt's arse and the sore back had been entirely worth the expression on Becker's face.

Matt really needed to stop fixating on Becker and the lack of his presence in Matt's life. It was depressing.

"He doesn't hate you," Emily said in a tone that suggested she was rolling her eyes.

"I'm pretty sure he does, actually."

"He doesn't hate you!"

Matt stared at her. Emily had turned fully towards him, her cheeks flushed.

"I'm sorry for shouting," she said in a lower voice. "But you're really getting to be ridiculous! I know you're hurting but all this self-pitying is too much."

"Sorry."

"I'm not trying to be mean, Matt, I'm really not. I just think that there are more productive ways to channel your feelings about Becker. Such as, perhaps, regaining his affections?"

Matt looked down at his hands. "What do you think I've been doing? It's hopeless." He flinched and glanced sideways at Emily, waiting for her to shout again, but she didn't.

"It isn't," Emily said, warm and sure. "He's miserable, you know. He's miserable because he's hurt and he's hurt because he cared. Because he still cares. Trust me- he still cares."

"I wish I could be as certain as you are."

"We'll talk to Jess tomorrow, all right? Jess is good at this sort of thing."

Matt nodded to appease her but he wasn't going to get his hopes up. It was no use when he knew they would only be dashed.

"Did you try baked goods?" Jess asked, resting her chin on her hand and gazing at Matt.

"Remember all the cupcakes in the break room last week?"

"Oh. What about gifts?"

Matt winced. That book had been heavy; he'd actually thought his toe had been broken for a while. Then there was the pot plant, which had mysteriously ended up on a corner of Lester's desk. The scotch at least he suspected Becker had kept, but most likely only because even Becker couldn't find it in himself to give away perfectly good - and rather expensive, as Matt's bank account could attest - alcohol. "That wasn't any good either, trust me."

Jess finally fell silent, apparently having exhausted her ideas. This was no mean feat, as Matt had seen the sort of magazines Jess read.

Matt slumped. "I think it's hopeless. He's just going to hate me and I need to start getting used to it."

"Don't say that!" Jess exclaimed. She bit her lip and thought, brow furrowing in concentration. "Wait! I know what you need to do. I think it's time for you to make a grand gesture," she said, brimming with excitement.

"A grand gesture?"

Emily was nodding in agreement. "Oh, yes, I think Jess is right. Something that he can't ignore or misinterpret that will make your feelings crystal clear."

Matt sighed at their eager faces. Clearly Jess had been showing Emily romantic comedies again. "And what sort of grand gesture could I make to Becker?"

"Buy him a tank," Lester suggested as he strolled past without stopping.

Jess giggled while Emily said, "Actually, that is a very good idea."

"I'm afraid procuring a tank is slightly beyond my means," Matt interjected before anyone could get too enamoured of the idea. A tank. Seriously.

"Yes, I suppose it is. Shame, though."

"Becker would have loved you forever if you'd got him a tank," Jess added unhelpfully.

The idea hit Matt suddenly, like a stroke of genius. Or else insanity, he wasn't sure which. "I could show him a tank."

"What?"

"I could take him to see a tank, couldn't I? A museum or something? A military museum?"

Jess was already typing away madly and then said triumphantly, "The Tank Museum! It's in Dorset."

"There's a museum purely for tanks?" Emily asked, peering at Jess' monitor.

Matt followed suit, scepticism fading away as he saw that Jess wasn't making it up. There was a real place called 'The Tank Museum'. Who knew?

"That's brilliant," Matt said, squeezing Jess' shoulder. "This is perfect, thank you."

Jess shrugged. "It was your idea, I just found it. Or was it Lester's idea? Perhaps you should thank him instead."

"If it works, I'll be grateful enough to kiss Lester on the mouth." Matt was even mostly serious.

The two girls giggled and Emily said, "I imagine Lester would be happier if you didn't do that!"

"Maybe you could kiss him and invite Becker to watch," Jess suggested impishly. "Some people go for that sort of thing."

Emily raised an eyebrow. "Are you including yourself in that group of people?"

Jess gave Emily a kiss on the cheek. "Would you like to find out?"

Matt felt his ears turn red and stood up abruptly. "Thanks for the help, but I think this conversation is taking a turn I'm not entirely comfortable with." He walked away with the sound of their mirth in his ears and a lightness in his chest. This was absolutely crazy but maybe it would work.

At the very least, it stood a better chance than anything else Matt could think of.

"Becker, can I talk to you?"

"What do you want? I've got a lot to do." Becker wasn't even looking at him.

Matt was glad that he had learned to control his emotions so well because there were few things that hurt more than Becker's casual disregard and his complete lack of interest. Matt remembered so many times when Becker had come to him with the intent of avoiding everything but them, mutually distracting one another from the rest of their lives.

The mission had kept him going but being with Becker had been the only thing keeping him sane.

He ran his tongue over his lips. "Have you heard of the Tank Museum?"

"That place in Dorset?"

"Have you been there?"

"No, but some friends of mine have. Why are you asking?"

"It, uh, it seemed like something you might be interested in. I know it isn't the same as, well, having a tank, but it was the best I could come up with. I thought you might like the history of it." Matt had done research. He was sure the military history buff in Becker would love the displays they had at the museum.

Becker's eyebrows drew together. "You want to take me to the Tank Museum."

"I thought… we could make a weekend of it? I found a hotel that... Or not. Maybe I'm being completely mad and you have no interest in it, or… If you'd rather go on your own, or with someone else, I'd understand." So much for the grand gesture. It probably lost most of the effectiveness if you backed out of going. Matt really should have thought this through better… If Becker were a woman, he would have at least brought flowers.

Should he have brought flowers anyway? It might have made Becker laugh, at least. Matt missed seeing Becker laugh.

"What are you doing?" Becker's tone was as sharp as the knife he kept concealed on his person at all times.

"I-"

"You can't come in here like this, planning weekend trips like nothing happened! Like you didn't treat me like I meant nothing, like I was just a nice diversion while you were dealing with your super special and important fucking mission that I wasn't good enough to know about. Yeah, that Becker, he's a great lay but he's a fucking idiot, better not tell him anything, who knows what trouble he'll cause. Hell, he might even be the reason the world goes to shit!"

Becker's words seemed to linger in the air between them, like a tangible thing, a barrier, a wall they'd built separating them from each other. Matt thought that he might have had to stop himself from crying, if he hadn't lost the ability to decades ago and long years in the future.

"Becker, I…" Matt swallowed. "If it makes a difference, I never actually thought it was you." It felt like pathetic, meaningless comfort even to him.

"No. No, Matt, it doesn't help," Becker bit out, getting roughly to his feet and sending the chair spinning on its wheels. "I'm pretty sure there isn't a sodding thing you can say to me that will make a difference."

"That's fair," Matt said softly. "Fair enough. Will you hear me out anyway? Please?"

Becker didn't say anything but Matt figured that was the closest to a 'yes' he was going to get.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you because I know I hurt you and I never wanted that. I should have told you. I knew you could never have been involved in any of it." Matt was beginning to think it might have been best to lead with the apology. God, he was so stupid.

"It's fine to say that now, but it doesn't change the fact that you didn't tell me."

"I know. I guess I was making excuses," Matt said, realising the truth in it. Making excuses to keep himself distanced because if anything had been a distraction, it was Becker. Becker whom Matt could see himself wanting to be with in a way he had never let himself dream was possible. Not for him. "I don't know how to be with anyone the way I want to be with you."

"You have a funny way of showing a guy you want to be with them."

"Did you miss the part where I said I don't know what I'm doing?" Matt said, the lame attempt at humour falling flat.

Becker's face was still hard and blank, giving Matt no clues as to what was going on in his head. "All of this, the museum, and the food, and everything else. It isn't going to magically make everything okay."

"Yes, I know it won't. But I'm… I'm trying. I care about you."

"What exactly are you expecting to get out of this?"

Matt thought for a long time because if he said this wrong he knew it would be over. He would never get another chance. "I'm hoping that you can forgive me. If you never want to be with me again, I'll understand. I'll respect your decision. But if you never forgive me I don't think I'll be able to bear it."

"I want to, Matt, I do. Because I cared about you, too, but that's what makes it so difficult. You could tell Emily and you could tell Abby, but you couldn't tell me. You didn't trust me!" Becker's voice cracked on the last word.

"But I did. I did trust you and I'm sorry you didn't know that. I'm sorry I didn't show you."

"Christ. I fucking hate this." Becker rubbed the back of his neck and started pacing the small room. "I don't want to fight with you. Do you know why I liked being with you so much? Part of the reason, anyway? It was because you were easy. It was easy to be with you because we didn't do this. We didn't have to talk and we didn't argue." He paused a moment. "Not much, anyway, and never about anything that didn't have to do with the ARC."

"This isn't exactly my idea of a good time, either," Matt said and hurriedly added, "But obviously it's my fault."

"It doesn't actually make me happy to listen to you groveling like that."

Matt hesitated and then took a step closer to where Becker had stopped pacing beside his desk. "Tell me what would make you happy, then. Please."

"I don't know," Becker admitted quietly. "I don't know and that's the problem."

"Do you want me to leave?" It was possibly the most difficult thing Matt had ever forced himself to say. If Becker said yes, it wouldn't be just a request for Matt to leave his office. It would be a request to get the hell out of his life.

"What, you mean actually leave? Leave the ARC?"

"If that's what you want. If it would help you."

"Christ," Becker mumbled, looking anywhere but at Matt. "You would do it, wouldn't you? You'd leave everything if I asked you to."

"I don't know what to do," Matt said, feeling almost sick with desperation. "Becker, I really don't know what else to do. I don't know how to make you understand how truly sorry I am, how much I regret the mistakes I made."

The room was so silent that Matt could hear the footsteps of someone in the corridor outside the closed door. Becker's hand was trembling where it clenched the back of his chair. "I believe you," he said eventually.

"You do?"

"Yes. I just don't know if that's enough."

Enough for what? Matt wanted to ask. Enough to forgive me? Enough to be my friend? But he made himself say instead, "I still have my holiday leave; I know Lester would let me take it. You could… think about what you want while I'm away." You could think about whether you want me to go away forever.

"I don't want you to leave," Becker said, seeming nearly as surprised as Matt was.

"What?"

"I… I don't want you to leave," he said again. "That wouldn't make me happy."

An inappropriate swell of hope formed in Matt's chest. "Becks, I'll do anything you want, I swear it. All you have to do is let me know what that is." He wanted so badly to reach out and touch Becker but he knew he couldn't. He didn't have the right.

"Do you think I actually know? I don't have a sodding clue what I want except that I know it isn't for you to leave. The idea of you going away, of not seeing you again, makes me want to throw up."

Matt felt sort of like he wanted to throw up, out of a combination of nerves and sheer, overwhelming relief. "God, Becks, I don't what I would have done if you'd told me to go. I think it might have killed me."

"Then I suppose it's good I didn't," Becker said, lowering his eyes and looking self-conscious. "But I don't want you to… I can't pretend like none of this happened. I know I can't forget but I do believe you when you say you didn't mean to hurt me. And I, well, shit, I still care about you, Matt. I know it probably hasn't seemed that way to you, but I do."

He stopped talking and Matt was nearly too nervous to breathe, but he needed to understand what Becker was saying. "What does that mean? Would you give me another chance? Is that what you're saying?"

Becker's mouth softened. "Yes, I think so. Whether you deserve it or not."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I don't," Matt said lightly, feeling an odd desire to pinch himself. "But I'll take it."

"Let's say it's a side effect of me remembering how great the sex was," Becker said with something approaching his familiar smirk and Matt laughed. "Mind, I'm not saying things will be like they were. You fucked up, Matt, you really did."

"I know."

"But I want to try. I want to try and see if we can be friends again, and then… we'll see about the rest."

Matt started to reach out with his hand and then dropped it. "I can live with that." He could definitely live with that.

There was a small trace of humour in Becker's face. "Will you tell me something? Did you actually think this would work? You could ask me on a date to the Tank Museum and I'd just say yes?"

"Not exactly. It was supposed to be a grand gesture." At Becker's raised eyebrow, Matt added, "I suppose it wasn't as grand as I'd hoped."

Becker rested his hand against Matt's arm, fingertips curling onto his triceps. "It's a start."

End