I've grown up on Mork and Mindy, and this scene always struck me as so sweet and beautiful that I just had to adopt it for my favorite couple. RIP Mr. Williams.

He's always known the day was hard on her, but he doesn't think he realizes quite how hard it is until she shows up at his door in the middle of the night, sobbing.

He doesn't ask why, just pulls her into his arms, vaguely aware of the fact that she is never more beautiful then when she is crying. The sight of her face, red and puffy and covered in tears and snot, is a rare reminder of how fragile she is-how human she is-and he loves it just as much as every other part of her.

After a while-he has no grasp on whether it's been seconds, minutes, or hours-the water-works stop flowing, and as she catches her breath and pulls away to stand on her own two feet, he asks her what the matter is.

It's a stupid question, really. The matter is that Elizabeth Penderwick died 14 years ago to the day, leaving her seven-year old daughter heartbroken and missing a chunk of her soul. But the answer that he gets in return shocks him.

"My mother never got to meet you." The admission is spoken in a hoarse whisper, meant as a confession for his ears alone. "I want her to know everything about you, and that you are as close to me as she was."

The deep breath she takes is one meant to gather courage, and as he hears the next sentence out of her mouth, he understands why. "I want her to know that you're the most important thing in my life."

For some reason, his heart stumbles at these words, words that hint at what he has wanted to hear for so long. Drawing a deep breath of his own, he steps back a bit, staring at her with a mixture of awe, and honor, and a raw emotion that he can't quite name.

"Skye... I'm... I'm deeply moved."

She just smiles, softly. "My mom would have liked you, Jeffrey, I just know it."

"I would have liked her, too."

"Yeah..."

"I know what I would have said to her, too."

She looks up, surprised. "You do?"

"Sure." Feeling her eyes boring into the back of his head, he walks toward the door, and opens it.

Bowing his head at the invisible guest, he sneaks one last look at Skye, before speaking. "Hello, Mrs. Penderwick. I'm Jeffrey, it's nice to finally meet you."

He knows he must look ridiculous, walking an invisible woman to the couch, but out of the corner of his eye he can see her daughter smiling, so he just takes a seat on the opposite end and continues.

"No ma'am. I don't live around here. I live here."

"She's comes over a lot, yes, ma'am."

"Oh, we're very close."

And then-he doesn't quite know why, since he logically realizes that he is only speaking to thin air-but he hears the next question being fired his way as clearly as if the long-dead Elizabeth Penderwick was indeed sitting on his couch. And it causes his eyes to widen in something akin to panic.

"No, no, no, no! Not that close! Believe me, not that close. Your daughter would never allow that!"

He hears said daughter giggle at this, and the sound warms his heart in a way he hadn't thought possible.

"Yes, ma'am, I'm single."

He thinks she approves of that.

"You know, if it wasn't for your daughter's hard head and your family taking in strays, I wouldn't have nearly as happy an existence as I do now. I just want to thank you for bringing her into this world."

"Do I love her?" By now he can hear the questions clearly, as if through a speaker, and he knows exactly where this is leading. He doesn't care.

"Well, I want to give her everything I have and spend the rest of my life with her. Is that love?"

The answer is one he's known for a while now, whether or not he was willing to admit it.

"Oh." A low whistle escapes his lips. "You know, it's kinda funny that I had to join another family to realize that I want one of my own. I wonder if she feels the same way."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I should ask her myself."

He stands up, watching thin air walk to the door. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Thank you very much. I like you, too."

He gives it a second, trying to collect his thoughts and words and actions, before he approaches Skye, a sheepish smile on his face. "That's what I would have said to your mom."

She stares at him, perfectly still and slightly awed. "I have a feeling you're trying to say something to me, too."

He looks down at his feet, and they just stand there for a second-neither one moving, both trying to live in the moment and remember this forever.

And then the door shuts.

All by its self.

And Skye's eyes threaten to pop out of her head.

"Please tell me that was just a cross breeze. It was just a cross-breeze formed by the open door and the open window on the other side of the apartment, right?"

He silently gestures to the window behind him, tightly sealed and locked, and shrugs.

The color drains from her face, and he would swear she starts to shake, slightly.

"Jeffrey, was my mother really here?"

Her voice is desperate, anxious for answer and yet frightened of what it might be. He just gently grabs her hand, pulling her close, and whispers, "She told me to give you something."

It could just be his imagination, but he thinks he hears her whimper as his lips grace her forehead.

"I love you, Skye."

There's a long second before her answer comes, but when it does it's better than he could have hoped for.

"I love you, too, Jeffrey."

And as her mouth meets his, he swears he hears an angel laugh.

(End.)

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