Notice: This chapter gets really NSFW (here be lemons). You have been warned.

Chimes rang through the air as the antique timer sounded, alerting all who heard it that time had run its course. Amélie managed a faint smirk as she tapped it to disable the ringing, before pulling a fresh pair of baguettes from the oven. Her mother's recipe called for a full medley of grains, with pumpernickle rye darkening the batter beyond what most chefs in the city would allow. The warm, brown hue of the bread reminded her of home, and the faintly sweet scent that came with it made her mouth water, serving as ample distraction.

It had been two days since Angela had left her on the couch to go tend to her patient, and she had neither called nor messaged in the whole time.

Amélie removed the lid on the larger pot on the stove, dipping her saucing spoon to test the broth. After a taste of the familiar treat, she replaced the lid and turned off the heat, before fetching a pair of bowls. It had been some time since she'd prepared onion soup, but she needed as much comfort as she could get.

Being alone was a torture unto itself, and she had been since then. Why hadn't Angela at least responded? Try as she might to console herself that she was just busy, her anxiety was slowly starting to win.

Now where was the damn ladle?

The drawer that should have contained it yielded nothing. Another two drawers beside the stove were checked-also nothing. The sink was empty, and there would have been no reason for her to put it in any of the cabinets; so where the hell was it?

Amélie shut her eyes and leaned her hands onto the counter, trying to calm the anger that was beginning to boil over inside her. She'd been on edge this whole time, and while cooking was usually a therapeutic exercise for her, this missing spoon was proving to be a thorn in her side. She replayed her memory and searched the entire kitchen in her mind to find where the errant utensil could have gone. It was a trick she'd learned before; her eyes saw everything, even if she didn't recognize it at the time, and so remembering allowed her to examine all that she'd seen.

It didn't work.

None of the drawers or cabinets she'd examined contained the ladle. Amélie balled her hand into a fist, and pounded it on the countertop, letting her eyes open to stare at the door. The door never quite felt her stare, though, as her gaze wasn't really directed at anything, other than the need to calm herself down.

It wasn't worth being this upset over a goddamn spoon.

But it wasn't just the spoon. It was the fact that this kitchen, this last bastion of independence and creativity she held, was just as prone to betraying her as the rest of her life had seemed to. All of her work would be for naught if she couldn't properly serve the meal she'd made-and it wouldn't be long before the soup cooled too much to properly finish.

She would just have to make do.

Yet before she could even begin to move to retrieve the bowls she'd fetched, a telltale click in the door drew her attention. Her eyes, still staring in that direction, fixed on the seam as the deadbolt withdrew and the doorknob turned, allowing herself to hope for who she knew was there.

"Welcome back," Amélie said quietly, knitting her brow, unable to keep the smile from her lips or the catch from her throat as she moved to rise. Angela smiled in turn, though it was muted. Her eyelids were swollen and her hair unkempt from the bun she'd hastily tied those days ago. She still wore the same outfit, though her blouse had come mostly untucked, and her stockings had developed runs. Amélie frowned as she realized what this likely meant and, the relieved sigh from Angela confirmed it.

"You haven't had any rest this whole time, have you?" She asked, and Angela barely shook her mhead.

"I, um…" she began, before closing her eyes in an attempt to concentrate on speaking, "I had some trouble with the cab. Had to…" The woman swore under her breath, and Amélie couldn't help but smile as she came around the counter. Softly, she threaded her arms beneath Angela's, wrapping about her and pulling her close in an embrace. Any other time, and it might have seemed uncharacteristic, but seeing her so flustered gave her some reassurance, and allowed her to be the strong one, for a change.

"You're here now," she began, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, "you made it back. I've got warm soup for us to share with fresh bread, if you want, or we can just go to bed."

"I probably stink," Angela remarked, which gave Amélie more cause to smile.

"A few minutes can't make it much worse," Amélie retorted, "buuut...if you're really feeling dirty, I can just put the soup away, and we can have it later." She found Angela's bloodshot eyes and let herself be lost in them - and she felt Angela doing the same, however tired she was.

"I think I'd rather just shower and go to bed," she admitted. Amélie squeezed slightly in response before letting her go.

"Then that's what we'll do."

Angela smiled as the embrace was released, before slowly sauntering towards the bathroom while Amélie found a container for the soup, and some plastic for the bread. Pouring the oniony broth into its vessel was a strange challenge without a ladle, but she somehow managed it without burning herself, and without making a huge mess. Once in the fridge, she turned towards the bedroom, beginning to undress into her usual sleeping attire of underpants and a loose camisole, and moving towards the bathroom to tend to her teeth.

Angela's clothing lay crumpled on the floor in the corner near the tub, hastily removed into its own pile. Normally this wouldn't have caught her attention, but Amélie noticed one thing in particular: the blouse and skirt had gotten quite wet.

"...Angela?" She asked after spitting her toothpaste into the sink, the smirk probably playing through her voice.

"Mmm?" Her voice was lower-pitched than usual, and even the hummed syllable felt sluggish somehow.

"Did you forget to undress before you got in the shower?"

Angela's quiet betrayed her, and Amélie began to chuckle as she moved towards the curtain, poking her head in.

"If you needed help, you only had to ask, you know." Angela turned around and shot daggers with her eyes, which amused Amélie greatly.

"I'm a big girl-I can handle mys-" Angela nearly finished the sentence, before the bar of soap she held slipped from her grasp and raced for the drain.

"Can you really now?" Amélie folded her arms, the shower curtain slid just enough to allow the conversation to continue.

"...go brush your damn teeth," Angela retorted as she began to bend over to reach for the soap. Amélie watched, but her face went red as the woman's vulva came into full view, and the confidence she'd held in this exchange broke. Try as she might, though, she couldn't pull her gaze away until her anatomy was out of sight, as she felt her own body begin to respond.

"Alright," she said finally, the playfulness having dissolved into longing as she made for the sink. Mouthwash splashed over her teeth and into the sink, and finally she wet her toothbrush once more and began to use it to rinse, when the shower turned off. The light blue towel Angela had been using was stolen behind the curtain, and Amélie felt her heartbeat quicken. Focusing on her teeth provided little solace. Her eyes shut, and she stooped over, bringing water up to rinse off her face and drain what was left in her mouth.

Opening her eyes, though, revealed an extremely naked Angela behind her. She brought her hands up beneath Amélie's arms and gripped firmly at her breasts, pinching at her nipples through the thin material there. Amélie shrieked as a surge of pleasure rocked her body, and drove her back against Angela. The press of her own breasts was enticing, and the points of her nipples puckered against her back as she continued to squeeze at the tender anatomy.

"I...I thought you wanted to sleep…" Amélie said as she pressed her rear against Angela, her eyes closing. Her lips began to flirt with the back of her neck, and Amélie gasped, throwing her hair to the side and leaning her head to expose more of it.

"...with you." The whisper was so close that she could feel Angela's lips as though she'd nibbled on her ear, and could feel her breath against the cartilage. Shivers ran down her spine as she turned around, quickly forsaking her camisole and panties to the same pile to share in nudity. As she pressed her body to Angela's, she could feel her own arousal and desire mirrored; as she pressed her lips to Angela's, she could feel her own yearning and connection.

Slowly and deliberately, the couple moved through the doorway into the bedroom, where Amélie lay Angela down, climbing atop her. But when she paused to look for confirmation, Angela's eyes did not open.

"Angela?" she asked, but she didn't respond.

"Angela?!" She nearly hissed, her desire turning to desperation; but the woman would not answer. Angela began to snore quietly, and her momentary concern abated. For the briefest moment, she felt insulted and hurt, but as she recalled how she'd come home, and how she hadn't even had energy to eat, Amélie knew there was nothing at all to infer. Rather than fear that she had somehow lost Angela's interest, she felt secure; and while every fiber in her being wanted to ravish her in her slumber, she knew she needed to wait.

Her lips pressed to Angela's forehead, and Amélie rolled off of her, lying beside her as she pulled a pair of blankets up and over them both. Lying here, even without the fullness of physical intimacy she'd longed for, she knew there was nothing that could come between them, and that peace soothed her to sleep.

The morning couldn't have been any more perfect. Amélie didn't remember regaining consciousness, but she suspected that was because of how well they'd slept. A gentle glow illuminated the room from the white curtains that caught the sunlight, and illuminated she and her bedmate. Angela lay on her back, having barely moved from when she'd passed out the night before, and she snored gently. It wasn't like Gérard, where the snoring itself was prone to waking her up and preventing her from falling back asleep. No, the noises that came from Angela's throat were soft and muted. She'd have thought them delicate, if not for the fact that it was still snoring.

All the same, she'd found herself cuddled next to the woman, one of her legs resting between hers and an arm resting idly overtop her stomach. She'd all but forgotten their nudity for how comfortable and how right this waking had been, and how she wished to herself that every morning could be like this one.

What gave her pause was not the thought itself; she'd long since come to grips with how she felt towards Angela, and the connection they shared. No, what gave her pause was that the thought didn't give her pause. Things had never once felt quite this right when she'd been with Gérard, and perhaps that was why she hadn't even begun to question her newfound romance. She was a married woman, yes, but even she had to admit she'd never known this kind of connection with her husband. She'd never felt this happy, and she'd never felt this free.

Angela inhaled deeply as consciousness found her, shifting slightly beneath Amélie as her blue eyes barely opened.

"Good morning," Amélie mused quietly, finding herself smiling as Angela stretched her arms above her, arching her back as she turned slightly to face her.

"Next to you?" She responded, "always." Angela settled her arms about Amélie as she turned to face her, leaning their foreheads together. Her blue eyes, still yearning for consciousness, locked with Amélie's, and she felt her heart skip a beat. One hand found the base of Angela's neck, while the other cradled the small of her back, holding her close as she leaned in, pressing their lips together.

"That," she said, breaking the kiss after a moment, "was for being so cheesy."

"And if I were cheesier," Angela teased, drawing a hand down Amélie's back to cradle her rear and pull her hips closer and drawing a shiver from her form, "what would that get me?" She pressed herself against her, coming nearer to her passion, and feeling the warmth there.

"Why don't you find out?" Amélie's taunt bore the full weight of her lust, wanting nothing more than to connect with this woman, to share body, soul, and passion.

"Then let me just say that," Angela began, before clearing her throat, "'No measure of time with you will be long enough. But let's start with forever.'"

For several moments, Amélie just stared at Angela. It was cheesy, sure, but not excessively so. So caught up was she in trying to figure it out that she almost let it pass. Angela kissed her, she kissed back. Until it hit. Her eyes opened, and she raised an eyebrow to the woman, who broke their kiss and began laughing.

"The hell was that?" she asked, fighting a laugh herself in as she tried-and failed-to remain serious. "Of all things; Twilight?! How do you even know that film?"

"I blame a roommate in college who promised to show me the best vampire film I'd ever seen," At this, Angela pouted and released her hug, moving to sit up and hang her feet over the edge of the bed.

At that, Amélie turned to face her, a look of judgment and scrutiny playing on her face. "You don't actually…"

Thankfully, she didn't have to finish her thought.

"Oh God no," Angela answered, the false look of horror on her face quite the sight to behold, "That movie was the worst drivel I've ever seen. I will always mourn those two hours I lost." She paused, frowning. "You just asked me to be cheesier, and I'm not very good at improvisation."

"So the best you could come up with was Twilight?" Amélie retorted, her amusement having slipped through, as she rose to her knees, straddling behind Angela and wrapping her arms about her shoulders, pressing her breasts to her back. "Well, it was cheesier."

"Does that mean I get to see what I get?" Angela leaned back, tilting her head to one side to glance at Amélie.

"Hmmm," she hummed, shifting down to rest her head on the woman's shoulder. While there was a strong part of her that wanted rather desperately to make love to her, a more playful part thought better of it. "Nope, that doesn't quite count. It was too strange."

"'Too strange?!'" Angela protested, rising and turning around, facing Amélie fully. "I make a fool of myself to get a laugh, and it's 'too strange?!'"

Amélie nodded.

"You are a very difficult woman to please, Amélie Lacroix," she said, stepping closer and putting her hands on her hips.

"You're more than welcome to try, Angela Ziegler," Amélie's retort was scolding, but her tone betrayed her desire, and her longing.

"Am I now?" Once again, she found her yearning mirrored in Angela, and saw in her blue eyes the same need that she felt.

"Yes," she said, "p-please, yes."

At the invitation, Angela's hands found her shoulders, and pushed her gently onto her back on the bed. She could feel her desire swelling within her, and the pulsing of her loins strengthening with each moment. Angela climbed atop her, pressing the fullness of her form to hers, skin touching skin from head to toe, before their lips met.

She wanted this.

She needed this.

"Hmmm," Angela interrupted, pulling back her lips after a few moments, just before either of them could shift, "Nope."

What?

For a moment, Amélie felt hurt, betrayed, but then a knowing, playful smirk played mischief on her partner's face, and she knew she'd been had.

"You're horrible," she said, before sighing and allowing a smile, kissing her quickly, "simply horrible."

"To be completely fair, it's more or less exactly what you did to me," Angela's retort came as a matter of fact, which gave Amélie more cause to sigh as she pushed herself up and rolled beside her.

"I suppose I can grant you that," she replied, turning toward her with a smile.

She'd never smiled this much with Gérard.

Once again the thought hung in the air. The comparison between what she had now and what she'd had with Gérard was like night and day.

"What are you thinking about?" Angela quietly asked, snapping Amélie back to the present.

"Oh, just…" she paused, trying to figure out quite how to explain it, "you know how to make me laugh. It's a big reason I love you so much." The last phrase caught in her mouth, and her eyes widened. Amélie could feel the color drain from her face, as she had so casually admitted something so deep.

"And I really love how you tend to get lost in thought, and I love watching the wheels turn in your mind. That's a big reason why I love you so much." Before it could sink in, Angela set her lips forward, pressing lips to lips and consummating that simple but impossibly deep statement with a kiss. Another moment passed, and she realized what she'd said.

She loved her too.

All at once, she felt a new joy welling up within her. Her cheeks pulled lips into a smile, and closed eyes let forth tears, in an emotion she'd never truly felt. Angela's hand brought up to wipe them away, and Amélie leaned into her touch.

"I love you, Angela," she tried again.

"And I love you, Amélie," Angela's words were like sweet nectar. Amélie felt her heart blooming within her, a hundred thousand butterflies erupting to life in her chest. They kissed again, and she wrapped her arms about her, clutching her with a newfound fervor, and a deepened desperation. There was a passion there, yes, but more than that, a connection.

Their lips held together for one infinitesimal, eternal touch that lasted anywhere between an instant and a millennium. In that one moment, the world felt right in a way that it never had for her before, completing an already perfect morning. She let her eyes shut, and breathed Angela in, through her nostrils, tasted her upon her lips, lavished in the warmth of her body, and hid safely in her embrace.

When their kiss broke, Amélie found herself smiling, and she laughed as Angela leaned her head forward, also smiling and pressing their foreheads together.

"I've never felt like this," she cooed, shifting slightly, "it's as if…"

"...you're everything I never knew I always needed?" Angela tried, flitting her blue eyes open, gazing back into her own. The words hadn't been what she was going to say, but they fit just as well, and she nodded.

"I've never smiled this much in my life," Amélie commented, "not when I was with Gérard, not at our wedding, not at our honeymoon, not when we moved here-not even when I was a girl. I have you to thank."

Angela smiled in turn, touching their noses and caressing hers with her own.

"I would move the world to see you smile," she returned, "I've also never felt so...free. You love me, and I can see in your eyes that you love me for me. I've been in more relationships than I want to admit; none of them felt even remotely like this, and I felt nothing for them like what I feel for you."

Amélie's smile was muted as she considered her words, but a soft smirk began to play on her lips.

"Careful, doctor," she said with a low voice as she deliberately slid a hand down her back, "if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to seduce me." Her fingers wrapped Angela's buttocks, gripping her cheek firmly and squeezing as she pulled against it.

"I-is it working?" Angela muttered as her face reddened, the need for intimacy bleeding through the façade she wore. Amélie allowed herself to gaze into her eyes, and in the moment, her own desperation won. Her lips pushed forward, and she shifted, opening her legs and sliding her knee against Angela's, until she felt her vulva pressed against her thigh, hot and slick. A thrust of her own slid her anatomy against Angela's, and she gasped out a quivering moan.

"You don't need to seduce me, Angela," she managed as she began to shift her own vulva against her lover's leg, "I am yours." A fire burned within her, radiating out as she continued to move, and she guided Angela to the same. The sound of her voice, rapt in the pleasure of her motions encouraged her, and drove her to move more fervently. The hand at her rear shifted down her leg, and she hooked behind Angela's knee, tugging at her leg. Amélie could feel her heart racing as her eyes opened once more to gaze at the woman. Bringing her own opposite leg up, their eyes locked, and she shifted her hips, gasping as the connection was at last made.

As their most sensitive anatomy finally connected, Amélie felt time stop, and their eyes locked for that eternal moment. Angela smiled, some loose strands of her hair flirting with her eyes, before she began to shift. That same fire in Amélie then began to roar as the friction of her motions began to take effect. All of it was overwhelming and incredible; her heat, the texture of her labia sliding across her own, the nub of her clitoris, her moisture, her whines and her gasps and her groans, the lacing of her fingers intertwining with her own. All of it came at once, and Amélie felt control set loose from her just as she willingly gave it freedom. Pressing back bade Angela gasp, before the two women began to slide back and forth, rocking their hips against each other. Each stroke was sublime, drawing pleasure upon pleasure and pulling them closer and closer together.

Eyes shut, and Amélie could feel herself beginning to build towards...something. She couldn't really say what, but she'd long since given up caring about whatever was going to happen between them this evening. They were having sex, and it was all the closeness she could have asked for.

Then all at once, she felt something like a snap in her mind, as all thought was driven from her and a warmth the likes of which she'd never known rushed throughout her form. Amélie began to tremble, before crying out loudly, feeling a surge of moisture in the pressure between them.

As her body stopped convulsing and she came to herself, she found Angela smiling gently before her, arms wrapped about her.

"...either I'm just that good," she said with a smirk, "or you've never had a proper orgasm before."

Oh.

"S...so that's...what that was…" Amélie admitted a smile on her lips, though for some reason she felt embarrassed by it. Turning her gaze away, she closed her eyes as she blushed. Until Angela's lips found her neck and she gasped loudly, feeling shivers run across her entire body, amplified, it would seem, by what had just happened.

"It was hot as fuck," Angela whispered, pressing herself forward and reconnecting their vulvas. Amélie whined, but pressed back in turn, feeling her mind blank again.

"I-I've-...ngh…-never had that happen...before," she struggled for almost every word, as Angela seemed almost desperate. She could feel the build beginning again as she worked, only this time, she found herself encouraged by Angela's own cries. Their voices mingled as the heat and moisture of their orgasm rocked them both. After a few moments, she let her eyes open anew, and found Angela this time looking away in shame. Catching her chin in her hand, she gently turned her back to face her, caressing her cheek with a smile before kissing her straight on the lips. Every part of her anatomy was fully awake to every part of Angela's, and she felt like she could spend an eternity like this.

"I don't usually cry out like that," Angela admitted quietly once their lips parted.

"So I guess I'm," Amélie paused, smirking knowingly at her lover, "'just that good,' then?"

Angela barked a laugh, before giggling and wrapping her arms back about Amélie, rolling her onto her back.

"Mm, I'll agree with that," she said, before letting out a sigh and beginning to settle behind her, "though...was that really your first? I would have thought that certainly you would have had one before now, what with you having been married and all."

Amélie nodded. "Thinking back, I may have come close once or twice," she admitted, "but usually Gérard would leave his mess in me and then fall asleep. Even when he tried to pleasure me, he could never...well, do that."

"Not even by yourself, though?" Angela asked, bringing a hand up to lazily flirt with her nipple. Amélie felt her breath draw in as the sensitive flesh was teased, but she certainly wasn't complaining.

"It was never quite so intense," she replied, turning her gaze to the woman beside her. Need began to well up in her like she'd never known, and for a moment, she knew it played upon her face.

"Well then," Angela's voice regained its sultry tones as her hand began to travel down her stomach, "looks like I'll have to get you caught up."

Setting down the receiver to the telephone, Amélie smiled as she gazed back at Angela. She had completely lost track of time, just as she'd completely lost track of how many times they'd found their climax. It had been an eternity, and it had been just a few moments, and all of it blended together in her mind as her eyes wandered up the woman's form.

"Hm?" Angela asks, noticing the gaze, "am I wearing something odd?" Amélie could only smile in response as she came and sat on the bed beside her.

"Nothing," she commented, rolling the woman onto her back with her hand on her shoulder, "and there's nothing wrong with that."

"Oh good," Angela retorted, shifting her hips to rest more comfortably, "I was worried I'd have to take it off." A playful smile emerged, and Amélie craned her neck down, kissing her forehead.

"Well now," she said, "we wouldn't want that, would we?" Shifting her own body, she came to rest atop Angela in a posture that was familiar now to them both. She could feel her muscles protesting as she moved to resume their passion, but before they could connect, Angela shifted, letting out a sigh.

"Wouldn't want to miss our lunch," she replied, though by now, Amélie had discovered just how much mischief and teasing lay behind those deep blue eyes.

"Can't we just eat each other?" Amélie knew that Angela was right, and she shifted off of her. For now.

"Mm," Angela mused, rolling back onto her side to face her, "but then who would get the door?"

"That's true," she admitted, sighing contentedly as she continued to replay their love-making in her mind, "I suppose one of us should get dressed, then."

"I might get jealous, after all, if the delivery boy stared at you." There was a playfulness in Angela's tone, but with just enough sincerity for Amélie to take it as affection. Leaning in, she kissed her forehead before rising. Without a word, she began to slip fabric onto herself. It felt so foreign, after what she'd experienced, and sad in a way. Turning finally, she met Angela's own gaze, which was clearly not on her face. Embarrassment welled up.

"I-is there something wrong?" she asks, feeling her cheeks warm.

"Not really, no," Angela admits, "just trying not to imagine pulling those off of you after we've eaten." That much made her blush even more, but for different reasons, and she returned to the bed, laying on her back beside Angela.

"Only you are allowed to do that," she turned to face her, "and now you've got me hoping that the pizza will arrive sooner than later." A knowing smile crossed Angela's face, but rather than tease her through the clothing as both of them probably would have liked, she leaned over to kiss Amélie, who kissed back.

"Oh! I have something for you," Angela said after a few moments, and Amélie tilted her head to one side in confusion. Seemingly from thin air, Angela produced a data chip.

"Wait, how did…" The chip rolled across her knuckles, and Amélie reached for it. Emblazoned on the silicon was the Overwatch logo, but more importantly, she took her lover's arm into her hand, examining it. "How the hell did you do that? You're naked-where were you hiding it?!"

"A magician never reveals her secrets," the laugh in Angela's voice flirted with her desire, "but I can say that I found it on my desk with a note from IS. Turns out someone down there owed you a favor, and it's got data that you had requested."

At that, Amélie found herself sitting up, looking at the stick with greater intent. A million questions came to mind, but with them, a conflict rose within. The psychologist's words echoed in her mind, and she sighed, reaching to close Angela's fingers around the device. This naturally drew a concerned look from the woman, who sat up as well. Amélie's gaze remained fixed on her fist, loosely about the drive, until Angela shifted, sitting up and moving behind her. Gentle arms wrapped about her waist, while the curve of her chin rested on her shoulder.

"What's wrong, Amélie?" Angela asked, beginning to sway slightly with Amélie in her arms.

The question in and of itself was not shocking, but the weight of everything began to suddenly coalesce. Very few people could read her like that, and even fewer who were allowed to do so-let alone ask and expect an answer. Amélie leaned her head onto Angela, letting her eyes close with a sigh.

"It's…" 'Nothing' was what she was tempted to say, but based on Angela's pause, she knew that wouldn't pass. Nor did she want it to. So much of her relationship with Gérard had been closed off. He'd asked before about her mental state, only to lose interest as she began to explain. He hadn't known how to handle it, and she hadn't blamed him, opting instead for a life of emotional solitude. But Angela was different; she knew Angela was different, and in that moment, she resolved herself.

"What did Dr. Regis tell you?" She asked quietly, feeling her nerves begin to shake.

"He told me that he'd found you shellshocked at your desk, that he ordered a psych eval, and that you were declared unfit to work. I didn't ask for any other details." Angela resumed her gentle rocking motion. "I figured you'd tell me when you were ready."

For a moment, she wondered just what Regis was playing at with what he'd told Angela. The man's usual bravado accounted for it, though. He just needed to be the hero of his own story.

"That's not quite right," she answered, continuing to stare through the wall before them at nothing in particular. While Angela listened, she recounted her experience the day before, how she'd rewatched the hard light recording several times in a row. She talked about how seeing herself had highlighted her flaws to her, but that after a few moments of discomfort she was able to move on. She walked through each playback and the details, and the nagging suspicion that something wasn't right about it all, and how even after watching it all play out five times, she'd been unable to find anything to hint at what might have gone wrong. Amélie mentioned the confrontation with Regis in the hallway, and how she'd been able to make him squirm-and then how she regretted that the moment he showed up at her cubicle with that damn grin of his. If she hadn't known any better, she'd have thought he planned for it.

She talked about going to see the psychologist, his office, the plants, the way he'd declared her unfit from the moment she stepped in.

"And that was the worst part," she continued, tears streaming down her cheeks as Angela continued to rock her, "as he spoke, I couldn't help but feel that he was right. I know myself, Angela, I know my faults and my flaws and how broken I am. I know my head isn't in a good place right now, and I know that I'm unfit to be working like normal. I'm a goddamn mess." Angela kissed her neck, then, which drew another fit of tears. Her hands finally reached up to clutch at the woman's, and Amélie leaned into her.

"How can you love me when I'm this broken?" She finally asked, giving voice to the lingering doubt in her mind.

"Because, I choose to," Angela answered, "and because through the cracks and the breaks in your shell, I can see something amazingly beautiful and resilient. I can see you, Amélie, and I'm honored and humbled that you have allowed me to." Her words were a lifeline, and Amélie allowed herself to lean fully into her partner and cry. She'd never cried this much with Gérard, but then, she'd never felt like she was allowed to cry this much with him.

"I really am a mess, aren't I?" She asked quietly after a few minutes, taking comfort in Angela's gentle motions.

"Mm," Angela confirmed, "but do you want to know a secret?"

Amélie nodded.

"We're all broken. No one of us is perfect, and we've all got flaws and cracks and breaks and tears in us. Some are worse than others, but there is no such thing as a perfect person. Being broken? Having flaws? There's nothing wrong with that; that means you're human." Angela stopped rocking as she spoke, but Amélie didn't mind. There was truth in her words.

"Besides which," she added a moment later, "that psychologist is an idiot. I've heard things about him from colleagues, and he's had more than a few ethics complaints lodged against him, from what I've heard. I'd raise one myself, but I'm only contracting here."

That drew a rare smile from Amélie. "I'm sure Dr. Regis is very pleased with even that."

Angela barked a laugh. "His tormenting is incessant. I lock myself away in the lab whenever I'm there just so he'll leave me alone."

Amélie allowed herself to sigh, as the tears at last ceased to fall.

"Anyway," she continued, "thank you for the offer, but it's not necessary in this, when he's right." There was still the matter of the data Angela had brought. As if on cue, she produced it into her hands once more.

"What do you want to do with this, then?" She asked, rolling it across her knuckles like a coin.

"I need to think about it," Amélie answered, "I just need to make sure I'm not just reacting or following a rabbit trail, and that pursuing it won't break me even more." She turned to look at Angela, who shifted in the bed to face her.

"I'll keep it, then," she answered, "until you decide. If you want it, it's yours; if you don't, I'll make it disappear." And at that, the device disappeared again, as if from thin air. Amélie already knew that trying to track it was folly; she knew she could comb over every inch of Angela's perfect body and she wouldn't find it, so she allowed a small smile onto her lips.

"And if I change my mind?"

Angela smirked, and the data chip reappeared on the tips of her fingers. Even though it was exactly what she'd been expecting, Amélie still caught her smile widening until she broke into a laugh-her first in several days. Angela smiled, before Amélie leaned forward and planted her lips on hers.

The kiss prolonged, and Amélie could feel desire swelling within her once more as she began to lean even more into it.

And then a knock came at the door.

"...the pizza," Angela pouted, beginning to untangle her fingers from between the pajamas Amélie had put on. Amélie sighed, wishing they didn't have to eat.

Another knock drew her to rise, and move to answer the door.