Title: Love Without Reason
Fandom: Foyle's War
Characters: Christopher Foyle, Rosalind Foyle
"Love without reason lasts the longest." – Jean-Francois Regnard
Why did she choose him?
He questions her choice every day, even now with her wearing his ring, sleeping next to him in bed. He is deliriously happy to have been chosen, but still slightly confused as to why. He has asked her and she's answered him, many times, laughing and kissing him softly, trying to ease the frown lines on his forehead.
"For someone who's supposed to be clever, you take a good while to understand something so simple." She admonishes him, hugging him tightly as she does so. He rests his chin on her head, inhaling her scent, running his hands over her back. He never imagined that love could be this easy, this joyful.
"Darling, do you know where my blue tie is?" He calls one night. He's standing in their bedroom, looking at his reflection in the mirror, wishing that they hadn't agreed to go out tonight. Downstairs he can hear Andrew babbling away in his own baby language to his cooing grandmother, his babysitter for the evening.
"I think it's in the hamper." She replies from the bathroom. He ambles over to the doorway and watches her as she lathers her shoulders. So pretty. So young. His wife. She catches sight of him and smiles. "Did you find it then?"
"No."
"Did you look?"
"Not yet."
"Aha." She's grinning now at him, rinsing the last of the soapy bubbles from her body. "Would you hand me that towel?" She asks, stepping from the bath, like Venus rising from the sea. He brings it to her, wrapping it around her before pulling her closer to him.
"Must we go tonight?" He murmurs into her ear, as his thumbs slide up and down her wet arms.
"Don't you want to go?" She questions, tilting her head to look at him.
"Not anymore." They laugh before bringing their lips together. Why, he wonders, does this always feel so new, so exciting? It's been years since he did this for the first time and yet he still feels nervous when he kisses her more often than not and she still blushes under his gaze. He thinks he'd still like to feel this way when he's eighty.
"I love you, you know." She says happily and he briefly tightens his grip on her.
"I know." He does know. Maybe he'll never know why, but if he only knows one thing, it's that she loves him, regardless of his flaws, his moods, his insecurities.
"But we're still going out tonight."