The first time Therese saw Carol in the snow, it was when Carol stopped alongside the road to pick out a Christmas tree. On Christmas Eve, no less. A gesture completely like Carol, and yet… There was a heavy sinking feeling in the depths of Therese's heart, because Carol was upset and what could she do to help her? The little shopgirl from Frankenburg's, and the wonderful Carol Aird. Therese stared at Carol through the windshield of the vehicle and pondered the concept. Surely, Carol was not as happy as she made Therese. And how could Therese be happy, when she hardly knew Carol as a person? Yet when Therese thought about "love" and her own feelings for Carol, how could she describe her feelings as anything other than love in its purest, most raw form?

She caught the amused glint in Carol's eyes as she flipped her hair back, and Therese was struck with a sudden feeling of inspiration. It was more than just inspiration, of course, but how could Therese possibly proclaim her love? Unfairly easy it was for a man and a woman to find sanctum together. Unfairly difficult it was for Therese to find a way to confess her feelings, yet at the same time, she was happy. She was happy to let her feelings stew inside of her heart and wait until she was at her weakest for them to burst, exposing her, leaving her raw. And if the world saw her for her feelings and condemned her, Therese could live with it. If at least Carol knew, then she could do it.

She loaded the film into the camera with fingers that trembled from the cold, and stepped out of the car. Carol needed to be photographed as she was, and Therese wondered if her unskilled hands could bring justice to the uniform beauty that Carol displayed. Yet, wouldn't it be a crime if nobody captured her features? The blonde eyebrow that relaxed from its crease when Carol's eyes, a calm storm stared right into hers. The fair hair that glowed in the light, in a style so common and yet much more perfect than anyone could have ever hoped. But what of Carol's voice? Of her fingers, and of the smile that turned upwards, slow and catlike? The same smile that turned Therese's heart into a birdlike creature that soared without care or despair, or the liquid pooling in her eyes that gave her an air of vulnerability? Even the smoke she breathed could never be captured. Carol could not be captured, Therese thought, because even if you tried, she'd find a way to slip through freely.

Therese sniffed idly and aimed the camera. Carol might have saw her, she might have even been posing. She snapped a shot and then two more. The camera was lowered, but Therese's gaze stayed on Carol, even as she climbed back into the warmth of the car, and even as the man helped load up the pine into the back. Even as Therese laid in bed that night, the image of Carol and the snowflakes that powdered her mink coat stirred in her mind, and she knew. She knew then, just as she knew the day that Carol's eyes first met with hers that she yearned for love.

=x=

The second time Therese watched Carol walk in the snow was after they walked out of the Ritz Tower, and after they parted. That same ugly feeling from last year gouged itself in her heart, with both the ferocity of claws raking down her chest and a deadening muteness that left her detached. She watched Carol walk slowly, through the traffic and to her car. Therese stared like she'd always done. And she thought too—about the beer can that rested somewhere in the car, about the words Carol had said and the truth it rang, and her feelings. Therese wanted to say so desperately that she loved Carol, but she was afraid of everything that those words couldn't promise her. Carol didn't look back as she got into the car. A teary goodbye didn't suit the two of them, didn't suit Carol. Neither did longing backward glances, so Therese turned away, hurried away through streets and she weaved so that she couldn't begin to entertain the possibility of catching Carol's gaze one final time.

The street was so much quieter after that. Quiet despite the fact there were so many people walking around, despite the fact that there was a party happening behind her. Phil wouldn't miss her, that she knew. Genevieve might, but what did Therese care? The passion that had been elicited from her would never last, it would never go beyond tonight. Therese stayed in the moment for only a few fleeting seconds, snowfall piling up around her. The only thing that mattered now was Carol. It had always been her, it would always be her. Therese watched the condensation pour out of her mouth like she'd never seen it before, like it was something foreign and curious. She would never see Carol again, and despite the fact she thought she could be happy with that, she knew that she wasn't. Who could be happy without a woman like Carol in their life?

An old couple walked by her. They laughed, and Therese did not. They were happy, and Therese was not. The man's face was jovial, lines marking the corners of his mouth, and Therese wondered how many times one would have to laugh to look so happy on principle. The woman smiled at her, the man tipped his hat. And in spite of herself, Therese smiled back. There was more laughter from a place more distant, and Therese turned to see Genevieve in the apartment window. She looked carefree, and it was a good look on her. But it was not a look for Therese, it was not the person that Therese wanted to see most of all. She stared, Genevieve pulling another woman close to her, and Therese felt nothing. She looked again in the direction of the elderly couple, and it was at that moment that Therese knew what she had to do. She began to walk, slow at first, but as more images of Carol flashed through her mind, she knew what she had to do. And then she ran, laughing and smiling like all the others, because she knew, and nobody could take that away from her.

She had to go to the Elysée, she had to go to the Oak Room. She had to see Carol.

=x=

During their third year together, Carol proposed to her, covered in snow and smiling nervously. Therese had never been the type to want to get married, or at least that was what she had thought of herself. And yet, when Carol dropped to her knee (and it was a silly gesture, considering they were out on the apartment balcony, and Carol was never one to get her stockings dirty intentionally), Therese's heart lept with a rush of pure euphoria that was hard to describe. "Therese," she began in that voice that Therese loved and would always love. There was nothing else that had to be said after that point, and it wasn't as though she could say anything anyways. Tears welled up in her eyes, and nothing in that moment mattered more than Carol, nothing would ever matter more than Carol. "I suppose that it doesn't mean much, but… Would you marry me?"

"Yes, yes, yes. A thousand times, yes," she whispered and pulled Carol up into an embrace. If something happened to Therese then, if she died in Carol's arms, she would die a happy woman. Even the thought that they would never be the duo of Mrs. Airds or Mrs. Belivets that Therese craved dearly so meant nothing to Therese. The marriage would change nothing, because it legally meant nothing, and yet it moved her to tears. The idea that Carol loved her enough to the point that she would suggest something that meant both nothing and everything in the world at once. Therese kissed Carol, and they kissed again and again and again, until Carol complained of the cold and the tears that streaked Therese's cheeks were starting to freeze. And when they were in their room together, they kissed some more.

In the safety of this apartment, Therese could say everything that she felt to Carol. The contents of the letter that she wrote that never reached Carol's ears and so much more than that. "I love you, I love you," Therese mumbled around Carol's lips, pulling her closer, scrabbling to see how much of her she could press up against. "Don't you know? I've loved you since the moment that I saw you in the department store. I've loved you ever since then and I've never stopped loving you." The happiness she felt spread over her like a tide, and just as it pulled out of the shore it brought Therese down under. Carol brought her down under in the same way, and pleasure washed over her in strides.

When it was over, Therese smiled and caressed Carol's cheek, leaned up for one more kiss. She might have been the luckiest woman in the whole damn world, and she would do anything to let Carol know that. "You're so beautiful," Carol muttered against the skin of her neck, and Therese would giggle in turn. "I couldn't be happier to call you my wife." Therese felt very much the same, and the giddy little smile wouldn't leave her lips until the next day. Because this couldn't have been more perfect or more right, and nobody could say that it was. Therese's feelings were only strengthened by Carol's sleeping face. By Carol, who existed and loved as the person she was, the person that Therese was happy to learn to love once more.

=x=

Therese's most fond memory came from year four, when Therese took Carol's hand and for the first time, Carol didn't pull away. They're huddled so close together that it looked more like they were pressed up to each other to whisper gossip or for warmth, but they know better. A love so divine, Therese couldn't care who saw it. She even hoped that they did. They ate at the same restaurants that they always did, something that was so insignificant but meant the world and more to Therese. For no reason other than that they were together. And she knew that Carol knew that they could always be apart, but their love would be enough to keep them together. Whatever road they may take, they would take it together, and Therese would do all of the bad parts over and over, each time more painful than the last, if only so that the road would lead to Carol.

They called each other names in secret as they've always done. Abby had been the only one to show up to their little impromptu wedding, besides her redheaded plus-one. Therese wore the ring, and whenever someone asked who the lucky man was, she would simply smile and say nothing, even if she would gladly yell her love for Carol to whoever was willing to listen. Even if she could never say anything in public, the private, their own little space was for the both of them. For Therese and Carol, for sweet nothings and sensual encounters. For the two of them, this was enough, more than that.

They held hands even as they walked back into their apartment, and they held hands as they leaned against the couch. Carol's chin was propped against the top of Therese's head, and she could feel everything. Could hear everything. Their heartbeats that beat together, the laughing of children who played in the streets below. This too was a perfect moment for the both of them. "You know," Carol began, eyes closed. "I had so much more I wanted to say the day I proposed. I wanted to say, to let you know that marriage is a huge commitment. But I was willing to wait, Therese. I'd have waited for years, decades even, just to hear you say the words 'I do', and yet you hardly even gave me the chance to finish." The remark was almost chiding, but filled with love all the same.

Therese laughed. "Is that so?" She rubbed her hands across Carol's legs, and she hissed because Therese's hands were cold, and this only spurred them into more laughter. Therese could have almost choked on the rush of adoration that jumped to her throat. "And to think this started over nothing more than a doll valise."

"It started because you're just too cute to resist," Carol humphed against Therese's hair, and she laughed again. Yes, this was right, this was perfect. Therese was certain that their problems would not end here because they were happy, but Therese was content. Content in the knowledge that she would learn to grow as a person with Carol by her side, content in the knowledge that their love couldn't grow dull. Knowing that Richard was wrong, and even Dannie. That Carol's face, just as pleased as she was, was enough for Therese to do the impossible for. It was enough, this little bit of happiness.

"Flung out of space and brought back to you," Therese whispered, before pulling Carol into a kiss.