A/N: In case you're interested in how I came up with the name for this, check out the Dave Matthews Band song by the same name.
Walking out of the front door of the house I see a vision kneeling in the flower bed and I sit in one of the old rockers she insists we need to watch her as she works at weeding. She's more beautiful now than the first time I saw her and my chest aches with the sheer quantity of emotions I feel for this woman. The chair squeaks as I rock and she looks up at me with a smile, shielding the sun from her eyes. Her smile is the center of my world, it's my entire reason for existing and I'd do absolutely anything to keep it on her face always. Every time she graces me with one, my heart clenches a little with the power of emotions that surge through me. I smile back and her and give her a wink. Her responding laugh as she gets back to her work is my second favorite sound, her "I love you" is the only sound more beautiful. Her movements as she weeds are as they always have been, full of grace and purpose. She captured my attention the first time I saw her, and nearly one hundred years later she still has it.
I hear him as he lets the screen door slam behind him on his way out of the house and I instinctively raise my gaze to his. Shielding the sun's glare from my eyes with my dirt covered hand, I smile as my heart aches just looking at him and I wonder if he knows that he's my everything. His casual rocking in the chairs that he gave me when we first bought this house hides the strength and fierceness that I know he's capable of showing. As he smiles, I can feel the love he has for me surge through my being, not even his cheeky wink can hide the depth of his emotions from me. I can't help but laugh when he winks because I that it's just his way of saying "I love you" to me. I tear my gaze from his and, keeping him in my periphery vision, get back to pulling the weeds from the flower bed. Since what some would mistakenly consider the greatest tragedy in my life nearly one hundred years ago, I have been his completely and every day that passes I love him more.
I fold my hands in my lap and just watch her work as I rock. I've always loved watching her, felt privileged to be able to watch her. Even watching her broken, beaten and dying was a privilege. Before I knew of the tenacity with which she regarded her life, I feared she would die in earnest and had already begun to wonder how I would exist if she didn't. That was the true beginning of my hell and all of the terrible things that I had seen and done before her eyes reopened and locked with mine paled in comparison with what I would now be forced to endure. Even worse was knowing what I would force her to endure. There wasn't the typical fight or flight response that I was expecting; there was no hatred, just a pair of big, beautiful, bright red eyes staring at me with nothing but questions that I couldn't answer.
A frown crosses my face and concern causes me to stop my work when I see that look cross his face. He is lost in a past that I have never regretted, but that will plague him forever. He only sees what he couldn't do, not all of the wonderful things that he did. I slip off my gloves and lay them on top of the weeds that I've already pulled, placing them all in the basket that's sitting beside me before rising and brushing the dirt from my knees. He is completely lost in his terrible memories, and the pain and regrets that haunt him shadow his face causing a burning ache in me. I can't change his view of the past though I've tried. He will not accept that we are stronger because of the choices that he made and I hate the knowledge that if not for me he wouldn't be hurting right now.
I had the chance that first night and I chose wrong. I chose to ignore her frightened eyes, to back both of us into a corner, to disregard that tingling in the back of my mind that was screaming at me to think. My choice, my poor choice backed us both into a corner and forced us both into impossible situations. The realization that I have now doesn't lessen my regret at that one bad decision.
He was content there before me, or so I've been reluctantly told. Not entirely happy, but not full of hatred and despair. He was a successful, although reluctant, participant in a fight that wasn't his own. I changed him there for the second time, and both of us were unaware of it until it was nearly too late. He changed me too, made me stronger and more determined. He captivated me, nurtured and protected me, became the force behind my ferocity. He's still all those things to me and always will be. I go to him, and a hand laid gently on his cheek paired with a soft kiss is all I need to win my battle with his thoughts. He gathers me in his arms and I greedily accept their comfort.
I feel her cool hand on my cheek and raise my own to cover it. She presses her lips to my temple and I pull her into my lap, wrapping her in my arms. She doesn't move her hand from my cheek and its presence gives me as much comfort as her laying her head on my shoulder and burying her nose in the crook of my neck does. I turn my head slightly and press my lips on the top of her head as I begin to rock us both in this old chair that she loves so much.
He rocks me as we watch the day pass from the comfort of each other's arms. It's only when the sun begins to dip below the horizon and the stars begin to wink in a way that reminds me of him that he pulls back enough to see the contented smile on my face. The irresistible mellow timbre of his voice is what finally breaks the silence. "You've got a little dirt," he says with a grin as he nods at my forehead before continuing with a wink, "You know I love it when you're dirty Charlotte."
She sees straight through my innuendo, and turns in my arms with a deepening smile. Her low, husky voice never fails to remind me of lazy days spent lost in loving her. "And you know I love it when you're not subtle Peter."
E/N: See y'all thought all we did was have sex all the time. We have DEPTH I tell you!