Eventually Deacon told Nora about his wife, their life together and her death. It broke her heart and she understood why he had made it clear that they were friends, best friends, but nothing more. It would be easier if she could be mad at him, but she wasn't. She understood all too well. The only difference between them was that she didn't hold herself responsible for what had happened to her husband, while Deacon couldn't let go of his guilt.

Nora lived for the rare moments when his hand would brush against hers, cherishing every smile, every silly lie. He told so many, most of them for no reason at all, that she was desensitized to it. When other people rolled their eyes or walked away from him she just laughed and added an even more implausible detail to his farfetched tails. She knew he needed his lies and as long as he was honest with her when it really mattered, he could keep them.

Nora knew that there were other people that were interested in her. She longed to be touched, held and she knew she could find that if she was willing to let go of Deacon. She wasn't though. She knew he wanted her and she hoped that maybe, over time, she could convince him. She just had to be patient. So she started a campaign to get her man.

It started slowly at first. She would touch him, playing it off as an accident. She was pretty sure he knew she was full of shit, takes one to know one and all of that, but he never said anything. Eventually he quit freezing or jumping away at her touch. She then graduated to measuring her success in how long she could touch him without him moving away or acting uncomfortable. It took time. Months went by, but now she could casually touch him without sending him into a panic.

Deacon knew what that crafty woman was up to. He knew she was slowly desensitizing him to her touch. At first he had thought she was crazy, but he couldn't deny that it was working. He no longer panicked when her arm brushed his. Yes, his heart would still race, but that was a different matter altogether. He worried that Nora was getting her hopes up, though. The idea of actually being intimate with her still filled him with equal parts longing and terror.

It wasn't long before the next stage in Nora's plan was put into motion. They had stopped for the night in yet another half collapsed building. They had gone about their business in companionable silence, eating dinner side by side in front of their small fire. It wasn't until it was time to go to sleep that Deacon realized Nora had zipped their bedrolls together, making one. She climbed in and looked up at him, face carefully blank. What was she playing at here? What did she think he was going to do? He started to panic.

"Deacon," Nora said in the voice she usually reserved for talking down idiots with guns, "just come lay down. I won't even touch you if you don't want me to. Just come sleep next to me."

"You're not, expecting anything? Because you know…"

"I do know." Her eyes filled with understanding, her voice going sweetly soft. "Really. Just come lay down. I promise I'll be a good girl and keep my hands to myself." Her smile turned a little naughty, eyes sparkling with mischief. He sighed and decided to trust her. After all, she did have an unblemished history of keeping her promises.

Deacon slid in to his bedroll, laying on his back. Nora was on her side facing him, head cradled in one arm. He didn't look at her, because he didn't need to see her to know she was smiling smugly at him. He could feel it.

"Quit smiling at me like that, loser."

Nora just chuckled, "Whatever you say, partner."

In an attempt to calm him down and get his mind off his anxiety, Nora started talking. She chatted aimlessly about Pre-War life, flitting from topic to topic until he slowly relaxed, muscle by muscle. He began to ask her questions, turning on his side to face her. They both laid there, talking late into the night. Their eyelids were just beginning to droop when Deacon was struck by a moment of bravery and slowly reached out, taking her hand in his. Nora's eyes met his, suddenly alert with surprise. He just smiled, gently stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.

He had not initiated contact with her in months. Not since he had had to take care of her injury. Nora's heart was fluttering in her chest as he stroked the back of her hand. She squeezed his hand, silently thanking him for the gift and then closed her eyes. She fell asleep eventually still clutching his hand in hers.

Deacon could tell the moment Nora drifted off to sleep. He peeked over at her and his heart almost gave out. She was smiling in her sleep. Because of him. At least he was capable of doing something right. He closed his eyes, falling into the deepest sleep he had had in years, holding Nora's hand the entire time.

Nora and Deacon had become inseparable. Everyone assumed they were having sex, but Nora neither confirmed nor denied their suspicions. Deacon slept beside her most nights, even when they were back at Sanctuary where he still had his own room in the community house. For weeks they would sleep with only their hands touching, tightly clasped in the space between their bodies. Nora found herself constantly aroused, the littlest touch from him making her tremble with desire.

Deacon knew she was having a harder and harder time keeping her hands to herself. He felt terrible. He wanted to give her everything she wanted. Hell, maybe he should just try. The worst thing that could happen was only utter humiliation, so why not? They were lying in bed one night when he took a deep breath and pulled her into his arms. She was so warm and soft. She laid her head on his chest, wrapping one arm around his middle. He swore he could feel her heart beat where her chest was pressed against him. Her chest… He vividly remembered what her breasts looked like and he could feel himself getting hard as he thought about how those two beauties were currently pressed against him.

Nora couldn't believe she was in his arms. She felt like she was going to catch fire. She was trying to be calm, to not push things. This was a huge step and it should be enough, but it wasn't. Nora decided to throw one leg up over Deacon's, just wanting to be as close to him as possible. Her eyes went wide as her leg encountered something… hard. She could feel his erection through his jeans. She didn't know what to do. Feeling his desire against her thigh was making her crazy with lust. She pressed her leg against his hardness and was rewarded with a moan as he pressed his hips up into her. It was too much. She had to at least try.

Deacon should have seen it coming. In hindsight, he felt like a dunce. Before he even knew what was happening, Nora had climbed on top of him and was straddling his raging hard-on. Her hands were on either side of his face, her lips only inches from his. Her eyes seemed bigger than usual, filled with silent question and wanton desire. Damn was she beautiful. His hands slid up her back, one finding its way to the back of her neck. He pulled her those last couple of inches, their lips meeting softly at first. Her lips parted with a moan as the kiss deepened. The tip of his tongue explored her mouth as she pressed herself into him.

It's really happening. He was kissing her. His hand was in her hair, the other applying gentle pressure to her hips, finger tips pressed into the exposed flesh between her jeans and t-shirt. She felt like she was back in high school when she had her first make-out session, when every touch felt new and exciting. It had been so long since anyone had touched her…

Nora was rocking her hips and Deacon was almost painfully aware of how little stood between him and her. He rolled to his side, bringing Nora with him. She understood what he wanted and rolled the rest of the way over onto her back. He was on her, one knee pressed between her legs. His hand was in her hair again and he was kissing her hungrily. Her tongue was in his mouth and her fingers were digging into his back. He pressed his knee up into her heat and she moaned as she rubbed herself against him. He found the hem of her shirt with his other hand, sliding it up in search of those perfect breasts. He found what he was looking for, rubbing his thumb over her taut nipple and enjoying the shudder that passed through her. The way she was wiggling beneath him was driving him to the point of insanity. He wanted to be inside her. He broke off the kiss so he could look at her and froze. For just a moment when he had looked at Nora, he had seen Barbara smiling up at him like she used to, dimpling prettily.

Nora knew when he looked down at her that he wasn't with her anymore. He had gone completely still and then he pushing himself away from her. She followed as he threw himself at the wall. His forehead was pressed into the wall and he was shaking all over. Nora was afraid to touch him, but she was afraid if she didn't that she might lose him altogether. She wrapped her arms around his waist, laying her cheek against his back and held on. He tried to dislodge her at first, but his heart wasn't in it. He sunk to the floor and she went with him, pulling his head into her lap. He cried silently as she stroked his hair, his face pressed into her leg.

"I'm so sorry… so sorry." He cried, realizing that he didn't feel embarrassed. He felt nothing but an overwhelming sadness that he couldn't give this amazing woman the one thing she wanted from him. She was perfect. She had been so patient with him and still, after all this time… How could he fail her like this?

"You have nothing to be sorry for. I shouldn't have pushed you. I am the one that should be sorry."

Deacon shot up at her words. He placed his hands on either side of her face, his nose almost touching hers.

"No," he said so forcefully that if she couldn't see his eyes she would have thought he was mad, but his eyes were filled with nothing but sadness as he shook his head. "You are perfect. I should be able to do this for you… for us." He hesitated, then continued in a whisper, "It's the only thing you want from me and I can't give it to you."

Nora's heart soared as he said the word "us." He had never referred to them as a unit before. She came crashing back down at his last sentence, though. Now it was her turn to set him straight. She rose up on her knees, looking at him sternly.

"Let's get one thing straight right now. Sex isn't the only thing I want from you. I want your companionship, your advice, your laughter, your ridiculous lies… I want you." She poked him in the chest with one finger, "Do I want to have sex with you, well hell yes. Of course I do, but that is the least of what I want from you. We'll get there eventually and I can be patient. You're worth it, Deacon."

He didn't know what to say, so he settled for the truth for once.

"I don't deserve you." He pulled her close to his chest, clinging to her.