Francis gently stroked her hair as her head rested on the covers pillowed by her arms. Last night was not as rough as usual and so he managed to fall asleep before the nurses made the first rounds for the evening. That morning he woke up late again to find Jeanne asleep at his bedside, her packages and belongings strewn haphazardly across the small table. He also noticed that the curtains were not drawn. Smiling at the thought of her falling asleep after fussing about waiting for him to wake he took out one of the blankets from the compartment under the bedside table and gently draped it over her shoulders.

As much as he wanted to talk to her he could not bring himself to wake her. By the way her clothes and hair were rumpled he figured she had a rough morning at work so he let her sleep. He gently took her hand in his and softly touched it to his lips, very careful not to disturb her.


He was waiting for her outside the children's center, 4:30 on the dot. He shifted his umbrella to his other hand, touched the small box in his pocket with his freed hand, and walked slowly towards the gate trying to keep his demeanor steady. The rain came pouring down unexpectedly, dotting the sidewalk with puddles and creating a haze in his vision. He was lucky that he had grabbed the worn out umbrella before heading out of the flat.

Francis stood there just inside the gate, not daring to move any closer to the building, his heart pounding in his chest. He coughed noisily into his fist and wondered if he had forgotten to take his vitamins that morning. He could see her at the door saying goodbye to her students and their parents.

The children waved furiously back at her, still squealing with delight and smiling despite how long the day had been. Some of the children ran wildly into the rain sporting only plastic ponchos, their guardians chasing after them with their umbrellas. The scene made him smile remembering the times when his parents used to fetch him from school long ago. A little girl and her mother bundled up in raincoats and umbrellas were approaching him as he stood by the gate. The girl looked up and recognized him immediately.

He picked out her name from the back of his memory. She was Giselle, barely seven years old with bright red hair and clear blue eyes. She was one of Jeanne's livelier students, which was saying much since all of Jeanne's students had very reputable energy levels.

Giselle gave him a toothy grin and waved. She tugged at her mother's sleeve and pointed to him saying something inaudible in the sound of the rain though from her lips he could only make out the words "teacher's friend". He smiled at them and waved back before they walked passed him, out of the gate and disappeared around the corner the crashing of the rain erasing any mark that they had passed.

He looked back at Jeanne and found that Giselle and her mother were the last to leave. From the wide glass doors he could see her talking to the receptionist and pick up her coat and umbrella from the stand. She made a little wave to the girl at the desk and pushed the glass doors open. Immediately she saw him from across the garden swaddled up in his rain gear, and waved enthusiastically. He could see her mouth form the shapes of his name followed by a bright smile. She hurried down the steps and sprinted towards him, the rain not bothering her in the slightest.

By then a lump had formed in his throat and the pounding in his chest was blocking out the sound of the rain as water crashed down around him. He couldn't stand it any longer and so he ran towards her as well. He caught her in his arms as they collided and pulled her into an embrace, dropping his umbrella in the process. She was still warm from being indoors all afternoon while he was clammy from staying out in the rain. She had also dropped her things and returned his hug, small arms wrapping around him tightly and her gentle laughs hanging in the air.

"Francis, we'll get sick like this," she said but made no movement to reach for her umbrella or to release him.

He was the one to break the embrace and he apologized for getting her wet. She just shrugged it off and said it was only water. When she bent down and started to gather her belongings Francis dropped to one knee in front of her and reached for his coat pocket. He took her hand in his, fumbling with the small box in his hand while pulling off her glove. He was breathless and the world was spinning around him, he could have sworn he was acting on auto-pilot then by the way he moved. Jeanne had also been transfixed by the moment, not moving, not saying anything. She just looked at him with an expression of shock parting her soft pink lips.

"Jeanne Isabelle Romée d'Arc," he started, his voice strained and almost trembling. "Ma petite, for all that you are, and for all that you are not, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" He took the small silver band in his palm and slipped it solemnly onto her ring finger a deep red blush creeping up to his ears.

He looked up at her to find tears streaming down her already rain-soaked face. She was making an obvious effort to not openly sob, smiling and crying at the same time, her brow knotted with the effort. The mess of damp golden hair framed her flushed cheeks as she tried to wipe away the tear-trails from her face. She knelt down to his level and hugged him tightly. Francis was still speechless at her reaction.

"I'm so sorry," she spoke, laughter lacing the edges of her voice. She was warm and soft against him.

His heart sank with what she said. He could not believe how nonchalantly she had voiced her rejection. He felt as if his world was shattering slowly and swirling away. He clung to her, though not as tightly as before, his shoulders tense and shaking slightly. He settled his head onto her shoulder and whispered softly into her ear, "Jeanne, I.. I didn't mean to.. I apologize then..."He tried to ignore the searing pain his chest was making, soon he was sure tears would spill from his eyes as well.

She released him and pulled away, staring at him with a puzzled look on her face. Then realization dawned on her features and her face was filled with worry.

"What? No, no, ma chérie, that is not what I meant. Please forgive me," she breathed pressing her forehead against his. She brought her hands to his face and stroked his cheeks gently. Her smile was sweet despite the tears that did not stop flowing from her eyes. "My answer is yes. Yes in every aspect of the word. Yes, I would love to be your wife. Oui, I will marry you, mon amour."

Francis' face slowly lit up, his eyes welling with water he was certain did not come from the sky as the statement sunk in. He pulled her into another tight embrace and whispered thank you and I love you into her hair again and again. She laughed, hugged him back and told him that she loved him very much.

He took her face in his trembling hands, looked tenderly into her eyes. His eyes filled with gratitude and love and everything else he wanted to tell her but could not manage to find the words. He was not thinking anymore, not sure of what he was doing as he leaned towards her and gently pressed his lips against hers. She was surprised at his action and it took a moment to register in her head what was happening. He felt her smile against his lips when she kissed him back. Their kiss was light, gentle and sweet, and for as long as they had known each other it was the first real kiss they shared.

Francis was confined to the hospital barely a week later.


He picked up the book from his bedside and donning his reading glasses he started reading where he had left off, taking his time on each page, pausing every so often to look back at the girl sleeping at his side, stroking the back of her hand lightly with his thumb as his fingers curled tenderly around hers. Jeanne slept peacefully, never stirring when he adjusted himself in bed or when he gave her hand an affectionate squeeze. It wasn't long before Francis drifted off into his own slumber just as the nurse came in to inform Jeanne that her visiting time was over. The entire time she did not wake and he never let go of her hand.

The nurse smiled at the sight of them and picked up the book that was strewn on the bed, carefully replacing the bookmark where it lay on the open pages. She took the glasses that dangled from Francis' face and replaced them on the table before she went over to Jeanne's side and gently tapped her shoulder.