Synopsis: Takes place in the beginning of Bonemender's Choice. Despite the kidnapping, Gabrielle still can't calm her racing heart, nor does Féolan want her to try. Rated T. Fluffy and comforting. Mild spoilers.

Disclaimer: Holly Bennett owns The Bonemender and all related items, I just try to stay IC.

Gabrielle never prayed, but she was about to start. Her husband had gone to fight, and had almost drowned. She had felt it through their bond that was stronger than life, it seemed, and her worry and fear had been tenfold when he had stopped breathing. She had been intent on following the battle through him, but they had been too far away, and there was something chilling about Féolan's swift warrior's mindset.

Speaking of her husband... She watched in terrified fury as Féolan came into view.

"What were you thinking?!" She was crying openly now, not realizing it. "You ridiculous -"

The feeling of his desperation and failure stopped her even before his words took hold. "The children were taken, Gabi."

Gabrielle paced the floor of the bedroom, the ache in her heart growing, unable to stay still or even to sleep, for Féolan was in a meeting with her brothers, planning the next move. She had already determined that she would be going.

Dominic would refuse at first, until the remembrance of her skills took hold, and just as Tristan would whine, Féolan would try to persuade her, ever her protector.

She gave a small jolt as the door opened, but not because she hadn't known that he was there. It was simply her response whenever her husband entered the same room; a twinge of excitement and joy, and the simple pleasure of him being so near, in spite of how dire a situation might be. She felt him move closer without turning, just as she felt his pleasure of being near her.

His warm, fine hands found her intricate braid, something she had forgotten in her panic, and was suddenly glad she did so. With the gentlest touch she had ever known, he slowly untangled the fine hair, and in spite of herself, she felt herself relax against his fingers.

"I'm still mad at you for almost drowning," she muttered.

Féolan let out a soft laugh and his thumb lightly stroked the back of her smooth neck.

"No, you're not." His voice was a million things at once; pleased, sorrowful, and teasing, rich with untold emotions that Gabrielle felt with every fibre of her being.

She knew, for instance, that he had never stopped thinking about their niece and nephew, missing in the dark water. She knew that he hated as much as she did that they were powerless to save them, or even help them until tomorrow.

Yet, she also felt the love that he couldn't hide, even if he wanted to. The pleasure he felt in a simple touch or sentence exchanged between them.

Over the six years that they had been married, every night there had been an arrangement of emotions that had been entwined with an all encompassing one that never waned. In everything, in frustration, admiration or pleasure, there had always been his love, their love, shared, connected, and it only grew stronger with each passing day.

Gabrielle felt Féolan's hands slide around her belly, gently caressing her skin through the light fabric of her nightgown. She moved her hands to cup his, smiling lightly when metal hit metal and their rings made a light silvery tune.

Féolan heard the music and smiled, even as his heart pounded at the feel of his wife's body singing against his, every inch of him clamoring to reply.

He let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes, lowering his lips to her neck, kissing the skin softly. "We'll find them." His voice was firm, determined, and hard.

Gabrielle turned and held his hands, pulling them to her mouth. "We will find them."

Féolan watched her, saw the familiar beautiful stubbornness of her chin set, and he knew what she was asking of him. His whole body screamed NO!

"Gabi -"

"We are in this together, Lover Boy. You, and me. Till death do us part. Or don't you remember?" Gabi, the sweet, infuriating human, raised her eyebrow at him in a challenge.

So he told her so. "My beautiful human," Féolan whispered and cupped her face in his hands. "My sweet, beautiful, courageous, infuriatingly wonderful human."

His lips touched hers with a passion he hadn't known had existed until her. He was an all consuming fire and she was his flame. When he pulled away reluctantly to breathe - but not too far - her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks were glowing, which invoked a grin from him.

"Was that enough to keep you from going?"

"Not even close, Lover Boy."

Féolan drew her closer to his body. "This will be our last night in a real bed for a while." Even if she hadn't been able to feel his need through their bond, it shone in his dark eyes.

And underlying the playfulness, the apparent relaxation of their movements around each other, he knew she needed him and his comfort, as he needed her. Not only now but for the strength to carry on into what he felt would be their hardest time yet.

Gabrielle didn't cry, whatever else she felt. She slid her arms around him, in a silent plea to hold her, and Féolan obliged, more than willing. He kissed her hair, so tenderly, and scooped her into his arms.

And during the soft light before dawn, when their love was whispered and tears were finally shared, it was then that Gabrielle prayed that they would all live, and it was then that Féolan knew that they would.