What Better Time Than Now

Timeline: Post-series

Summary: "But there was no reason not to ask her before then. And there were lots of reasons to ask her now." Less blatantly silly than the rest of these. More along the lines of blatantly sugar-sweet sappy. :)

He set aside his newspaper and listened with a slight smile to the light, feminine voice that drifted out from the kitchen, its cheery song punctuated occasionally by the clink of cups against saucers.

Sometimes it perplexed him that she could remain so cheerful in the face of their current situation.

But as long as she didn't become careless and put them both at risk, there was no reason to discourage her attempts to focus on their extraordinary luck in remaining successfully hidden for so long.

Not to mention, his extraordinary luck in regaining his senses and faculties after four months of the nightmarish helplessness of one drowning in a massive surge of knowledge that his mind had retreated from in its inability to handle it.

He was able to admit quite easily that he had come to appreciate this sweet, sunny disposition that had never entirely vanished when it came time for her to grow up already, and had begun recently to show again more clearly, since they had come here.

Still, he knew, probably better than she did, what it was costing her to stay here with him, when she could probably make a place for herself in the world if she would simply give up on this stubbornly-held idea of hers, of staying to take care of him, even though both knew it was no longer necessary – the gruff old doctor with no use for women that she had convinced with big blue eyes and fierce loyalty to the white-haired man to examine and assess his case had said as much.

Had become a bit of a joke between them, really. She was staying to take care of him; because hadn't she always done that, sort of? Little things that someone with more important things on his mind had no time to worry about; things like healthy meals every now and again that she never would have remembered for herself and thus ended up sharing with him on occasion when he thought of it; doctors' appointments, reminders to go home to sleep instead of eventually crashing into unconsciousness at his desk; tidying up periodically so that a book carelessly left somewhere about his office might not disappear forever into the clutter.

She was afraid of the possibility of change from this new incarnation of the old rhythms of their relationship; her hurried, alarmed assurances that she was more than glad to stay with him and do the many tasks that were far too easy to let her handle told him that.

That, he decided, was more than alright by him. If she wanted to stay with him so badly, to remind him with her presence and her bright smiles each morning and her periodic bursts into cheerful song that the situation wasn't as bad as reality made it seem, he wouldn't dissuade her.

Because, of course, she must have some idea of the possibility of re-establishing her life if she would only break from the safe monotony of building up an existence that kept his relative happiness at its heart.

Either way, he wouldn't insult her intelligence by trying to explain it to her. And if that meant that she remained unaware of it, so be it.

Still, there was something a little wrong about the way they were doing this. A problem easily fixed.

He crossed the room to his desk and pulled out the top drawer, and then withdrew a tiny box. With a slight smile and soft eyes, he started toward the kitchen.

This was something he had been meaning to do for some time now. Initially, the idea had come to him that it might be practical; it would cement her loyalty more firmly up to the point of their success, while that success itself would free both of them.

Now the idea seemed not so much practical, but the only thing to do.

Of course, they would not be able to actually do it until all this should blow over, if expecting that to happen wasn't just her needlessly hopeful thinking that seemed to be catching.

But there was no reason not to ask her before then.

And, he decided, tucking the ring box behind him as she turned and smiled brightly at the sound of his footsteps behind her, there were lots of reasons to ask her now.

End Notes: Whoo! Went from a triple-drabble to just under 650 words! All by the power of Obsessive Editing!