The Saturday morning sun shone brightly, ripe with the impending onset of spring, warmer than days past, but still with a nip in the air. Ben and Leslie found themselves on a large park bench, built specifically to accommodate the weight of the average Pawneean. They had the entire oversize bench to themselves but chose to sit at the very end, Ben leaning into the corner of the armrest and the back, Leslie resting her weight on his side. Ben's left arm stretched over her shoulders, his fingertips absently stroking the red sweater material over Leslie's upper arm as he flipped the pages of one of his favorite science fiction novels. A large, paperwork filled binder occupied their laps. It was Leslie's project, but the binder's size dwarfed her small frame and spilled over onto Ben's thighs. She scribbled lots of new ideas in the margins, crossed things out, and made copious waffle doodles on the blank page backs (in color, of course – those emergency colored pencils came in handy!).

They mostly kept to their individual tasks, enjoying the simple pleasure of sitting together in a public place and taking a break from their hectic campaign-centric lives to enjoy each other's company. Occasionally one or the other looked up and admired the park. Leslie saw the fruit of her labors in the excellent upkeep, admired the newly painted monkey bars and the hobo-free slide. Ben viewed the park as an extension of Leslie, so he, too, felt his heart swell with the idea that the woman next to him was at least partially responsible for each smiling face.

Smiling faces were in no short supply, as the park was particularly busy this uncharacteristically warm Saturday morning. A group of joggers rounded the track, dodging the walkers, the bike riders dodging the joggers, and everyone dodging the toddlers who wandered aimlessly the moment their parents looked away. A group of darkly dressed teens with skateboards had taken up residence on the tennis court. (Ben thought he saw Orin in this group, but did not draw this to Leslie's attention.) A birthday party was being set up on the veranda, and preschool age children were arriving in droves.

A particularly loud peal of laughter piqued Leslie's ears. She raised her head to see a nearby preschool boy with a mop of brown, curly hair and an oversized blue knit sweater plucked from the ground by his father and raised, squealing, onto the dad's shoulders. The boy covered his father's eyes, and laughter ensued from both the father and the nearby mother, who had procured a camera and snapped a quick shot of the joyous scene. As Leslie watched, her lips spread into a thin, involuntary smile.

She looked to her right and up slightly, expecting to find Ben still engrossed in Ender's Shadow, but he, too, had been watching the familial scene play out before them. His head turned, eyes meeting hers, the corners of his mouth ticking upward to mirror her grin. They gazed at each other briefly before returning their attention to the family.

"Someday, right?" Leslie asked without warning.

Ben's head involuntarily jerked slightly backward. He looked down at her, the way she stared so intently, almost longingly, at the park, at the families, at that smiling, laughing little boy. "Yeah, someday," he said, not really thinking what it might mean, now distracted by her nose, the way the corners of her eyes crinkled when she grinned, and that gorgeous, wavy blonde hair framing her profile.

Her smile widened, and she settled back into his side, still calmly regarding the park.

There was something in that knowing, quiet smugness that prompted Ben to reevaluate their quick exchange. He suddenly realized the potential implication of what he had just said. His eyes widened, mouth opened, and something nonexistent lodged itself in his throat. "Wait a minute. Are we – are we talking about children?"

Leslie coyly glanced up at him, a smirk playing on her lightly glossed lips. She said nothing, but the soft glint in her eyes told the story. Paperwork momentarily forgotten, she dug her cheek into his chest and laced her fingers through his.

A thrill fluttered through Ben's core. There was so much he didn't yet know about this woman, and yet, the idea of that future together just seemed so right.

Ben found himself staring at the crown of her hair, at her darker roots. He planted a tender kiss there, right where her hair parted, lingering a moment longer than necessary to get a good whiff of her shampoo. She snuggled a bit closer, and he rested his cheek on her head. They sat like that for some time, whether a minute or twenty, they never quite knew (and it really didn't matter, anyway).

Ahead of them stretched a beautiful, shared future.