Tom didn't know how to explain it, his need to smile at someone who always managed to be everything except excited to see him. Then there was the internal argument thereafter where Sybil would look away and Tom would be forced to remind himself that she had every reason to keep up the walls she'd worked tirelessly to build. After all, they were walls built with him in mind; hadn't he practically given her the idea behind their structure? But even that was tricky because believing that maybe Sybil wasn't feeling as cold as she appeared gave Tom hope while the other much more realistic part of him tried not to take advantage of all the times she allowed him near. Maybe he couldn't help but to smile or couldn't help but to think she meant something she was incapable of showing but maybe Sybil also believed in the distance she was keeping between herself and him and maybe it was more possible those meters would never dwindle. Maybe while Tom was working to break down these barriers, Sybil was only ensuring they were strong enough to keep him out.

Sybil's hair was braided tonight and she wore flats, a usual change from the trainers she wore at the hospital. When she emerged from the underground her eyes bounced from the pavement to his and then back down again. It had rained earlier and as Tom waited for her he began to notice all of the city in neon lights reflected in puddles upon the street. When he hopped on the tube on the other side of town, it was still sprinkling and he hoped that was not the case in her neighborhood. He had offered her a ride and was sad to find she didn't take it. He was less so now, seeing her here, but he wouldn't have been surprised if she used the weather as an excuse to avoid seeing him.

"Hey…"

"Hey," Tom said back, this time with a small laugh to match his smirk.

"Where's your car?" she asked, her eyes narrowing as they scanned up and down the street.

The two began to walk, their legs extending in time as they continued down the quiet sidewalk. "In the carpark below my flat."

Sybil raised her eyebrows. "You didn't drive?"

"You didn't want a ride," he explained casually.

"That doesn't explain why you didn't drive here…"

"I think it does," Tom countered. Every day he was shedding his fear of challenging her. "I'm lazy and I didn't want to have to start up my car and then pay for parking—"

"But you would have if I wanted a ride?"

The two were at the entrance to Polo Bar now and the lively atmosphere past the glass storefront was already inviting them inside. Tom reached forward to open the door for Sybil and when he did, she moved past him easily. "Of course I would have." It was Sybil's turn to give him a smile and as Tom saw it he prayed it was not a forced one.

Together the two stepped further into the restaurant. "Where do we sit?" Sybil asked while her eyes scanned the crowd. Initially she thought she'd feel odd being out this late. Somehow all she could remember here were the innocent moments her and Tom used to share every Sunday morning when they ate brunch at their usual cafe in downtown Cambridge. It was so casual she hadn't realized the way Tom pressed his hand to her back, steering her toward a table so others could sit. Tom mustn't have noticed either because when Sybil looked to him she saw only the way he wore wide eyes like a child caught doing the very thing he was instructed not to do.

"Anywhere," he attempted to distract his mouth from apologizing and ultimately bringing more attention to the situation.

"Why is it so crowded?" she asked immediately after.

"Stop questioning the magic that is Polo Bar, princess. Just enjoy the experience."

"Don't call me princess," she asked with an icy stare. Tom could only give a breathy laugh, his hands still itching to reach out for her waist again.

There was an empty table in the corner and Sybil tossed her bag down and scooted in. Tom followed and there was an awkward shuffle thereafter as the two worked to shrug off their coats. It was chilly outside but almost too warm in the restaurant and the air smelled of a somehow pleasant combination of coffee and grease. It was inexplicably encouraging, causing Tom to grab for a menu.

Sybil did not move as quickly. She was still studying her surroundings, taking in the photos on the walls and the other patrons that ate and talked to one another with vigor that practically had the entire diner vibrating with sound. She was used to the hour but not the location and she wondered now why she had accepted Tom's offer; a hospital past midnight apparently had nothing in common with the world outside of it. Beyond wanting to see him and feeling relieved now that she had, she still heard the more reserved parts of her whispering reminders of how this could end. All the while Tom was still taking her in — still smiling from behind his laminated menu.

"This is a wall," Sybil commented flatly, referring to the stone material that comprised the booth they had chosen. "I'm sitting on a wall…"

Tom chuckled but his eyes remained on the paper he held in his hands. "I can't believe you've never been to Polo Bar."

"Why's that?"

He looked up now. "Because you work the night shift a lot and this is right near the hospital. Also, most importantly, it's feckin' delicious."

"I eat hospital food."

"Who actually admits that? That's disgusting and you should stop," Tom stated matter of factly. The old Sybil would have laughed; the new Sybil wanted to.

Sybil's eyes followed a plate as it exited the kitchen and was set down before a customer who accepted the food with quiet excitement. "Why? This is hardly good for you."

"Well at least it's good for the soul," Tom explained before returning his attention to his menu. He knew what he wanted before he'd even looked at it but he found his eyes needing a distraction with her so close.

"The soul maybe...not great for your heart."

"Are we here as friends or am I your patient now?"

"I'm your doctor," she responded indifferently, not quite answering his question.

"Well hospital food tastes like nothing. And I'm sure even with that low-sodium no-sugar garbage it's not that great for you either..."

Sybil shrugged. "You get used to it. And you will need to because you'll be in recovery for at least a week."

"A week?" Tom retorted rather loudly.

"What do you and Dr. Frye talk about when it's just you and him in his office? He should be telling you all of this…"

"Well he's not," Tom huffed. "Thank god for you or I'd wonder if I'm having this operation at all."

"You're such a baby!" she tossed back.

"I'm a baby? I'm doing this because I could die—"

"You're not going to die," Sybil droned, adding to it a slow eye roll.

Tom continued nonetheless, playing into the immature role she'd cast him in. "I could die," he reiterated, "and I feel like I don't have many options. But how would you feel with some strange bloke cutting you open? They're essentially going to remove my heart from my chest."

"Not quite," Sybil scoffed. "Besides, I'll be there. Me and Ben and Will."

"Is that supposed to be comforting?"

"You told me it was."

"Yes, you," Tom agreed with a nod in her direction. "Having the rest of them there cancels you out."

"You're incorrigible, you know that?"

Tom was done. He'd raised Sybil to the level of rage he liked her at and then watched, ever so slowly, to see how long she'd remain her there. He'd fallen in love with how sweet she was but her passion and the way it sometimes came across as anger, was what sparked that initial flame of attraction. He did rile her up, then because it usually led to a rough night of lovemaking. Now he did it because he knew Sybil wouldn't walk away and each time he pushed he found himself shocked at how willing and ready she was to push right back.

She sighed out. "Like I was saying...I pack my lunch a lot...then I let that sit in the fridge while Will and I go get pastries across the street."

"Pastries?"

"Cake. Donuts. Scones. You name it."

"Some things never change…"

"Well I don't have time to cook for myself much less the time off for an actual lunch and I don't have you to cook for me anymore so…" Sybil knew what she'd said and somehow her reservation in saying it made the sound all the more satisfying.

Again Tom was smiling. "I'm there everyday, Syb. I could always—"

"Do you cook for yourself?" Sybil questioned quickly, hoping to banish Tom's genuine offer.

As she did a waitress appeared. Sybil had barely looked at the menu but when Tom ordered a full fry-up she couldn't help but to follow his lead. When the waitress was gone, Sybil thought she'd have to pick another topic but Tom gave her his response.

"Almost every night. Usually for Rory and Emilee too."

"Well they're lucky to have you."

"Tell them that. Em's a vegetarian now and Rory's the pickiest eater I know. You'd think I was their personal chef."

Sybil smirked. "Well aren't you? You do everything else for them."

Tom studied her. "Is that a compliment or judgement?"

Sybil sat back in the booth. "Why would that be judgement?" she laughed. "I think it's admirable...you know, doing all you've done. I know they're family but I'm sure it's still hard. You have your life too."

"I'm living my life," Tom assured. Sybil said nothing so Tom smirked and leaned in. "What makes you think I'm not living my life?"

Sybil swallowed but so she didn't appear vulnerable she persevered in giving him an answer. "Because you're—" The waitress arrived back, bringing with her their ordered meals. The pair thanked her and when she was gone, Sybil realized she was incredibly grateful for the interruption. The matter Sybil was ready to comment on concerned an area where she was also lacking and it terrified her now to realize how closely she associated love and happiness.

~!~

When Matthew returned home he was surprised to find Mary was still up. It was nearly one in the morning and with her pregnancy, lately they were both lucky if she made it much past eight. He was hungry, or at least that was what he had planned when he left his office: he'd eat, shower, and quickly slip into bed beside his fiance all while hoping not to wake her. It seemed that wish was useless now.

He walked to their bedroom where the light was on and leant against the doorframe to get a better view of her. She sat quite still, her delicate fingers grabbing for clothing out of the nearby laundry basket.

"Love?" Matthew asked with an amused grin.

Mary looked up. In her hands she held a baby onesie. She turned it around to show Matthew as if he hadn't helped her pick it out the other day. "Does this look like it will fit a newborn?"

"Uhh...I guess so? That's what it says, right? I mean—"

Mary shut her eyes and moved on to the next item. "I know what it says, Matthew. I was asking for your opinion," she emphasized.

"I haven't been around a newborn in a while, love. If he's anything like I was, he'll be a plump lad and it really won't matter what size everything is."

Mary tossed her hands down, this time with more sadness than anger. "What if he comes early?"

"And ruins the wedding?" Matthew asked with a sly smile. As he spoke he took several more steps into their bedroom and now stood so he was almost directly in front of her with his hands crossed over his chest.

Mary looked to him. Her eyes were rimmed with tears but Matthew couldn't help but to be touched seeing her in such a natural state. She wore one of his jumpers and her body swam in the cotton material making her legs look all the more thin as they curled up beneath her. "Not the wedding, Matthew! Sod the wedding! Our lives!"

"Whoaaa," he sang, still giving a small laugh. He was before her now, kneeling so the two were on the same level. She frustratedly wiped at a tear before looking back to him. "Love...how would—" He sighed. Finally he did move to sit beside her on the bed but not until after he'd moved the laundry basket. "If he comes early, he comes early. So what?"

"Then everyone knows!"

"That we have sex? Wow, Mary! What a concept! We'd be the first people to ever do that before marriage. We'd be outcasts…"

Mary chuckled, bringing with it a tap to Matthew's chest. Both smiled at one another and when Matthew saw that Mary's hysteria had left, he kissed her temple. "I'm sorry, love, but I just don't see it as a big deal. My mother won't care and…" His voice trailed off, urged by the look Mary gave him as she waited for his next statement. "Your parents would learn to live with it, right?"

"It just doesn't look great for my father. He has an image and I can't go ruining that. I mean, we graduated from Cambridge! 'Here's the Vice Chancellor and here's his unruly daughter and her bastard son!'"

"Mary!" Matthew gave, still with mirth. "It's not like we're having the kid while we're students. We've gone on and made names for ourselves and we have this life together now…"

She laughed too, her mouth coiling into a smirk thereafter in acknowledgement of what she'd done. "I just don't want him to be disappointed."

"He loves you, Mary. He won't be disappointed, alright?"

She nodded her head. In any other world, Mary would not allow herself to act like this. But this world, the world her and Matthew had created and would soon share with their son, was one where she was completely free to be herself. It was a foreign concept, one not fully allowed until after she'd moved to London.

"We've been dating for...what? Nine years?"

"And we've been sleeping together for longer," Mary gave in agreement, all with another honest giggle.

"Marriage isn't what it used to be. I mean...I'm excited for this wedding because I want you to be my wife. I like what that stands for but honestly you are those things to me even without a piece of paper or without a ring. You're still my best friend, love. You're still the person I need and want to spend the rest of my life with...and you're still going to be the best Mum to our little boy whether we're married or not."

Mary turned to her fiance and gave him a bright smile. "Thanks, darling."

Matthew nodded and then grabbed her cheeks to give her a kiss. "Of course. Now!" he bounded up, returning to his original objective. "Food…"

~!~

"So Mary and Matthew, huh?"

"Does that surprise you?"

"Yeah, it does actually. He treated her like shit."

"And she forgave him. They were young."

We were young too, Tom thought. "Did your parents ever know?"

"What? That Matthew was a shitbag? As if," Sybil scoffed.

"They're getting married, right?"

Sybil looked to him. Tom soon explained. "It's in the papers, you know. I guess I didn't realize how well known your family was. I mean...is this going to be in the papers tomorrow?" he asked, pointed to the crowded after hours establishment.

Sybil smirked. "No. Mary's made a name for herself without my parents' help and Matthew's taken on all of these high-profile cases since moving to London. That's their life...not mine. Not ours, really," Sybil gave with a small laugh, her eyes refusing to grace his.

"You were in the paper," Tom pointed out. When Sybil remained silent, he paused, calculating how it was she wished for him to continue — if at all. "When you graduated from Harvard," he explained. Again it was quiet so Tom sat forward. "Did you not know?"

"No, I didn't know."

"Well you were there when you were accepted…" His voice was slow but when Sybil looked to him he felt her asking for him to continue. "And then again when you got into medical school…" Now her eyes begged causing Tom's voice to flow as he revealed the last bit of information. "And then when you graduated with honors. Your dad commented...I mean, there was a quote from his office in there."

"Yeah, I had no idea…" Sybil stated, almost rolling her eyes. "I don't want that life. No, thank you." What she wanted gone was the air of intrigue that swept in when she even considered that it was likely Tom searched for her every now and then — maybe not always in newspapers but on the tube or in restaurants just like this one.

"If you're as badass as everyone says, you'll be in medical textbooks someday. That kind of makes you famous, no?"

"I don't know why you think I'm so amazing."

"Because everyone, especially Frye who is currently the best doctor in his field, says so."

"I thought he just had a crush on me?"

"He might," Tom shrugged. "But he also knows talent when he sees it. I'm trusting the bloke to cut me open so I think I'll trust him when he says how feckin' brilliant you are."

"I'm hardly…" Sybil used her free hand to push several curls behind her ear. "Well thank you, I guess. I just...it's my job and I love it but I'm no more special than anyone else. We're a team—"

Tom laughed. "You're shit at taking a compliment."

"Well is it a compliment or are you just stating facts?"

He paused, deciding in an instant to let the issue go. "Whatever you want, Syb."

She could tell he was defeated, just like how she could diagnose every emotion he experienced, even after all these years. "We talk about me a lot and we don't really talk about you," she said softly as if trying to explain her aggression.

"We talk about me some. I'm not as interesting as you are."

"Sure you are. You're doing what you love just like I am."

"I'm teaching. I'm repeating information that's not mine." Tom didn't say what it was Sybil was doing. The absence of those words showed her profession was filled with opportunities to do the very opposite.

"Yeah but it's information you're passionate about. It gave you purpose and the hope is that it'll help others too, no?"

Tom chortled at her optimism. "Well that's the hope. The execution isn't always that successful. Lately I feel like it's downright poor…"

"Are you not happy then? If you're not you should do something else."

"No," Tom shook off after sipping at his coffee. "I'm happy. I have a pretty awesome job at a pretty great university." Then: "I really don't know what else I'd do."

"Research maybe?"

"On what?"

"Ireland. Modern colonialism. I don't know...everything you've always been really passionate about."

Tom was smiling again and in doing so he was less afraid of the truth he'd soon speak. "Well you're back in my life and once upon a time I was told you were a distraction to my research so I don't know if that's a good idea."

He picked up his cup again, mostly to distract his mouth and hide the grin he still wore. Sybil's lips curled upward as well, their shared moment existing without noise but lacking any and all awkwardness. Both acknowledged the change in their ability to make references toward the past. For all the pain that existed there, before their break up the two experienced only multiple states of euphoria. Tom didn't lie; he was happy now but he also knew he was happier then and in seeing Sybil smiling back at him, he secretly wondered (and somehow knew) if this was also true for her.

~!~

"I made a roast—"

Matthew's eyebrows lifted. "A roast?"

"I'm practicing," she defended, practically threatening him against pushing the issue any further. There she was, the woman Matthew had fallen in love with all those years ago: fiery and yet every bit as patient with a task she'd chosen to dedicate her time to. So far she had conquered every challenge impending motherhood had placed before her.

When Matthew turned back to the kitchen, Mary began to follow. "There's salad too. That one you like with the strawberries and the feta…" Her fiance turned back to her. "You know...it's edible. Just in case the roast isn't."

They were to the bottom of the stairs now. Matthew looked over his shoulder and when he saw Mary was morose again he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder with ease.

"Hey!" she let out. "Baby on board! Be careful!"

As they entered the kitchen he placed her on the counter before beginning to pull the desired items from the fridge. Matthew inspected them in their tupperware. The salad was delicious but the roast looked good too. There were portions missing from both so he could only assume Mary had eaten it thus deeming it edible — literally.

While he heated the roast up Matthew spun to look at her. She was calm again, her long arms holding her body up while she inspected the kitchen. She must have felt his eyes upon her because she began to share a thought. "We have to get this place cleaned before the wedding. These floors are dusty."

He went to her. She could speak a thousand more words and he'd still understand she was miles from being okay. Mary might have been convincing herself of this, but Matthew was far too wise. He often knew what it was she was feeling long before she ever did. It was a habit he had picked up back in university when Mary would roll away from him after the two had sex. When he grabbed her back once he felt all of her soften into him as if she had been asking for that very thing all along. Matthew heard all of the things Mary was too afraid to say, sometimes far too loudly.

"Love, what is it?"

"The floors, Matthew…"

"Mary, it's not the floors. C'mon now. Just tell me. What did I do?"

Her eyes remained glued to the hardwood below. "You? You didn't do anything, darling."

"Alright then who—"

"I don't know," she shrugged.

Behind them the microwave beeped. While Matthew tended to the appliance Mary took him in, noticing now the rolled up sleeves on his shirt and the way his thin tie was still as starched as it had been when he left for work that morning. As he turned back to her, she gave a shrug. "What if I just don't want to talk about it?"

"Well that's fine then. But if you're going to sulk around here then I don't think that's very fair especially considering it's likely I'll be able to help you out of this funk." He paused. When she still didn't look to him he put his now full plate of food down so he could go to her once more. "Is it the wedding? The baby? What?"

"You're going to get annoyed and I don't want you to be annoyed!"

"Then I won't be annoyed!" he shouted back. The two never raised their voices to one another and when they did it was always like this, a nod toward their younger days when they did everything they could to keep their feelings a secret.

"Sybil…" She sighed out.

"Jesus! Is she pregnant to?"

Mary's eyes turned black and she leaned back as if to question Matthew's entire being just based on what he had said. "Well I hope not! What have you heard?"

"Not a thing! I just—"

"She's doing it again, Matthew. She's lying to me."

"Mary, you're not her mother…"

"No, but I'm her sister and that has always meant more for us!"

"I'm…why is she lying? How do you know she's lying?"

"She's seeing Tom. I know she is."

"Mary, she…" Matthew sighed out. It was his turn to look to the floor. "How do you know that?"

"How do you not know that? It's obvious! Or do you know that? Is that why you're being so weird?"

"I'm being so weird because every time you talk about how much you hate Tom I'm reminded of the fact that you just forgave me and we never really talked about it and…" He was sputtering, his mouth like a car coming to a slow stop after the engine had given out.

"Matthew, there was nothing to talk about, I…" She hopped down off the counter. "What is this? That has...that has nothing to do with any of this."

"Have we moved past it then?"

"Of course we've moved past it!" Mary bellowed, mostly in disbelief. "You're about to be my husband and the father of my child. I'd say we're very, very past it, darling."

"Then why do you hate him? Sybil doesn't hate me."

"You didn't—"

"I know how you felt, Mary. I know how I made you feel," he stated with conviction. "Tom honestly thought he was doing the right thing. I knew I wasn't and I did it anyway and in the end it made me hate myself even more."

"Matthew, seriously…"

"We don't have to talk about it then. You're right! I'll just let you—"

"Well no!" she shouted back. "We are going to talk about it because we already are! You opened this can of worms and now you're going to help me get rid of them!"

Matthew chuckled. He rubbed at his eyes, wondering how he could make all of this go away. "Love, I just...it still bothers me and it always has and we're getting married and after this I'd like to never talk about it again but you know now so—"

"Well I don't like that my fiance feels like a gobshite because of me! And I don't like that it's taken us this long to air all of this out!"

"Yeah well the only reason I felt like a gobshite...feel like a gobshite," he corrected, "is because I fucked up and you just let me. But it was a choice I made and—"

"I thought I just let you?"

"You do stupid things when you're in love, Mary! What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to say that you've left all of that in the past. We were young, Matthew. I slept with you that first night and then I did it every night after that. That was my choice even when you made it clear that you didn't want to date me."

"Yeah but you can't choose who you love, Mary. That wasn't your fault. I did love you. I loved you then almost as much as I love you now but you terrified me. You were this...this presence," he settled, "and I wasn't used to girls like you. You talked back and you were driven and your dad was the Vice Chancellor of my university."

"Do you…" Mary stepped into him once more, now seemingly breathless. "What? Did you honestly think that?" Then, once more: "How have we not discussed this until now?"

"Because you never want to!" Matthew returned. "And I don't either. I did shitty things and I spread some pretty nasty rumors and people thought things about you—"

"And you still slept with me," she reminded, causing both of them to share knowing smirks.

"You were on my level, I guess. You weren't perfect anymore."

"And what? You slept with those others girls because…"

"I don't know. To distract myself. Why else?"

"I just thought you liked sex."

"I liked sex plenty. Still do," Matthew admitted without apology. "But I liked it best with you and I could have had it with you, all the time, if I had just kept my mouth shut and taken a chance. But I didn't and I only know that now." There was a beat of silence before he continued. "Just like I'm sure Tom wishes he could take it all back. You only know how much of an arse you are after the fact. Somehow all of it makes a lot of sense at the time. Maybe he was...maybe he was scared."

"Scared of what?"

"How awesome Sybil is? I don't know! Women are scary! Is this new to you?"

"Yes!" Mary screeched. "As girls we're brought up to think men are the scary ones…"

"Well sometimes you lot are bloody terrifying."

"Sybil's hardly terrifying, darling," Mary brushed off with slight amusement. "Me, sure...I'll accept that and I'll even take that as a compliment but Sybil? She's the opposite of terrifying."

"Well the group of men that aren't scary seem to be the ones who are scared to have their hearts broken."

"And how was Sybil going to break his heart?"

"I don't know, Mary! I don't know specifics because neither of them liked me much back then. What I do know is how much it sucked for me. I know the agony I felt and I remember the relief when you forgave me. And then when you let me be your friend again and then we started dating and...it was unreal. I'm not saying Tom's going to get all of that. Honestly, I love Sybil and most of me really hopes she is smarter than that. But I do hope she forgives him...for her sake too. She needs to move on. She can't...if that's what she wants, you know, to spend the rest of her life alone then fine but—"

"But that's not what she wants?"

"Well of course not."

"I know that, Matthew, but what am I meant to do?"

"Be nice to her. I mean...she's lying to you because—"

"So she is lying to me?"

"I don't know, Mary! Christ! But you seem to think she is so…"

Mary 's cheeks puffed, making her look like a little girl who knew exactly what she had just done. Sometimes she was impulsive and other times she just liked Matthew's reaction when she pretended to be.

Matthew sighed out so he could continue. "If she's lying she's doing it because she's afraid of what you're going to say. I mean, did you tell her everything when you started talking to me again?"

Mary looked away. "No…"

"Did she...did she even know?"

"Of course she did. But Sybil...she only knows how to be supportive."

"Yeah well you're both cut from the same cloth. I...I get why you're upset. I'm protective of her too but you kind of have to take a step back here and let it happen. If she hasn't opened up to you yet then she's not going to start if you start accusing her or telling her what she's doing wrong. It's likely she knows what she's doing wrong but Sybil's smart so there has to be a reason she's still doing it."

"I don't...I want her to be happy, Matthew. That is all she ever wanted for me so I want that for her."

"Well maybe—"

"I know," Mary nodded. "I know. I just don't want to hear it."

Matthew stepped forward and cupped Mary's cheeks. All of her melted into him, her arms floating away from her body toward his while her eyes fluttered shut. He placed a strong kiss to her forehead, another to her nose, and then finally one to her lips. The last had them both breathing in, needing oxygen so they wouldn't have to detach. When they did, Mary was back again and Matthew couldn't help but to smile. "Let's get you in bed, yeah?"

~!~

As their plates were cleared and then subsequently taken away by their waitress, Tom grabbed for the check to observe the amount. Sybil instantly offered to pay but Tom ignored her. When she tried again he handed her the check but in seeing her dwindling insistence he took it in his hands once more, already fishing his wallet from his back pocket. While the two stood up and slipped into their coats, Tom continued to laugh and Sybil, who said nothing, wore cheeks as bright as her red scarf.

They were altogether quiet on their walk back to the tube. Sybil wondered if Tom would take the same train but she soon found this was not the case when he paused at the top of the staircase for the downtown lines. "So do we act like this didn't happen?"

It was an unspoken rule and to hear it aloud had both realizing how silly all of this seemed. They kept secrets as teenagers but both were long past those years and now felt guilt in still thinking such behavior was acceptable, much less necessary. Still, if it was what Sybil wanted, Tom would comply.

"When?" Sybil inquired.

"Tomorrow."

She shrugged. "It's already tomorrow." Without any change in demeanor, Sybil turned around and walked down toward her train.

~!~

Once inside both began to strip. It was such a routine they sometimes forgot how wonderful it felt to aid one another in removing each layer of clothing. Matthew was slowly reminded, especially as he took Mary in and noticed the minute swell of her stomach as she reached up to toss off his jumper.

He went to her and stilled her hands. They were working to roll down the soft cotton of her leggings and Matthew's fingers performed the function instead, all of him pushing the fabric off so it pooled at her feet on the floor, leaving her naked from the waist down.

It was Mary's turn to disrobe him but all she could manage was a lazy smile that had them both reconnecting at the lips. It was slow and lustful and as the two separated, Matthew returned to undoing his belt. Mary watched, giving in to how tired she was but not enough to surrender to the actual sleep her body craved. When Matthew returned to her, now only in his boxers, Mary sighed out all before letting him push them toward the bed with a searing kiss. When they fell back it was him that caught them and Mary somehow trusted Matthew to hold all of her weight so she could be let down gently. When her back graced the soft sheets below a similar support continued, this time with Matthew's hands running up and down her sides. She moaned, especially as she felt him against her thigh. Hearing her, Matthew pulled away from the kiss but only enough so he could bring her bottom lip with him, softly biting at the plumped skin with his teeth. She laughed and he joined her and soon she was on top, the two rolling around like teenagers, making up for time they weren't even aware they had ever lost.

"You're absolutely stunning, love…" Matthew purred into her neck between kisses, all the while kneading her chest into two soft peaks. His mouth moved downward, taking each nipple into his mouth before returning his attention to her. Soon they were lost in a kiss again with Mary's hands falling off her fiance's shoulders and down to the waistband of his underwear. When her hands dipped below Matthew dropped his head back. It was an action that was further encouraged as she began to stroke him. Though they'd spent their morning in a similar state, Matthew still found himself instinctively bucking into her hands. Mary couldn't help but to smirk, but in remembering the sleep both were craving, he moved toward her and looked down to where they were about to be connected.

Slowly he was inside of her, lifting his weight up off of her using a strong hand placed to the pillow on either side of her head. He couldn't hold this position for long and soon all of him was pressed into her and he felt her moving beneath him while her fingernails dug into the muscles on his back. The pain had Matthew quickening his pace but even through each wave of pleasure he was able to look to her. "You okay?"

"Of course," she nodded quickly. "Please, darling…"

With another several thrusts Mary had tossed her head back onto her pillow. Her mouth was dropped open and she sought out the sheets beneath as her fingers and toes curled. The pressure he was placing on her had each limb electrified, a feeling that only intensified as the two crept closer and closer to their orgasms.

Just steps away Matthew managed to slow down. He pushed back the sweat at her hairline and kissed the skin there. When he finally released he felt her let go too, both panting as they reeled in such an intense feeling.

Matthew sighed out, practically collapsing directly beside Mary but not far enough away so the two disconnected. He kissed her collarbones and then dropped his head to her chest in an action that had them both sharing a laugh.

When it all got quiet again, Mary ran her nails across his scalp. "I love you, Matthew." The moment was officially paused giving both time to exist without word or motion. "Please don't feel any other way than this. Because you are about to be my husband and you're going to be a great Daddy and I'm so lucky to have you in my life. That's for me to decide and I made that choice a long time ago. I love you," she said again.

~!~

On the train back Sybil tossed her phone from one hand to the other. Usually she'd use the time to check Facebook or her email but currently she sat on the edge of her seat, ready to bounce up and exit just as soon as the sliding doors opened to reveal her stop. While all of the underground whooshed past the windows, she sat back once more, accepting defeat. Her eyes were trained on the metal rungs above wondering now what train it was that brought Tom back to his place. Then she began to calculate the distance and held an argument in her head afterward where she decided if she was impressed or disheartened by her memorization of the late night tube schedule.

At her stop she moved much more slowly than she originally had planned. It was chilly and for awhile she thought it even might rain but the exhaustion in her bones did nothing to bring her closer to her flat. Not too long ago her behavior would have been questioned but tonight neither Will nor Gwen were home. Both were out somewhere, undoubtedly taking risks and submitting to the vulnerability Sybil had given up so many years prior.

There was a jealousy in Sybil but not one that ached for that lifestyle. She meant what she'd said to Tom about being happy, though in the silence after when the two ate their food, she wondered to what extent that emotion was being felt. She was happy and she believed that with everything in her but perhaps it was possible for her to be more happy — to feel more and be more.

As she inched closer to her bed Sybil began to disrobe. Her shoes were kicked toward her closet and her jacket was tossed on the back of her desk chair. Her orange tabby cat laid in the center of her bed and picked his head up now as he watched Sybil change into pyjamas. When he saw it was only her he set his head back down, causing Sybil to chuckle. She grabbed for her phone and peeled back her duvet so she could slide underneath. The cat immediately stood, stretching in a rather rigid manner before joining her at the head of the bed. He purred and she rubbed his chin and when he settled beside her Sybil kissed his face.

"Just me," she said aloud. But the feline was already done with her, ready to sleep again now that she was home.

Essentially alone Sybil turned onto her back and groaned up toward her ceiling. The air around her was so still and she felt it now, just how heavy loneliness could be. In a way she was stunned, wondering how she'd never noticed it before. Not a single change had been made since Tom reappeared and she refused to contribute his presence to her current state of doubt.

Just as her hands itched to do on the train Sybil clicked at her phone, causing the screen to light up showing no new text messages. She groaned again, this time using her irritation to turn off the lamp on her nightstand and attempt to go to sleep. As she did she continued to think of Tom, leaving off right where she'd stopped when she departed the train. Surely he was home by now and she wondered if he was out of the shower yet. He always showered before bed and he'd get up in the morning and do it again after his run. Sybil wondered if he stripped in the rather neat way he always had. He'd often made a joke when the two were naked in bed together, commenting on how the only time he didn't mind the mess was when Sybil was the one creating it. For a few years after their break-up Sybil held on to the tidiness he had taught her. Then she returned to her old ways, wanting clothing and textbooks to cover her floor to keep the room feeling more lived-in.

Once more Sybil was on her back. She blinked away the snapshots she saw of Tom, several of the muscles in his back being manipulated as he tossed his shirt into the nearby laundry basket. She also saw the way he rubbed a towel at his head to dry off his hair and the way he'd surely fallen into bed with nothing on. It was this thought she carried with her as she boldly sent him a text.

"No," she typed simply.

The grey bubbles on her screen appeared all too quickly. For a boy who hated texting, Tom was quite accessible. "?" he responded.

"You asked me if I was dating someone. A few days ago," she explained causing Tom to hear her voice through her written words. "The answer is no. I'm not dating anyone."

Tom sighed out. He held his phone out in front of him, his arms extended up in the air undoubtedly making him look rather stupid to anyone who would have walked by had his door been open. "Thank you for clearing that up at 5am," he said. It was the third text he'd tried, the other two deemed inappropriate if he wanted to keep the conversation going.

"Why are you still awake?" she asked.

It seemed Sybil had a similar goal and in seeing her subject change he could only smile. "I think I should be asking you the same thing."

For whatever reason Sybil wanted to tell Tom that she wished she had gone home with him. The more she thought about it, the easier it was to uncover that reason: that was exactly what she wanted - no more, no less.

This was dangerous.

"Do you hate me?" she asked.

"Why would I hate you?"

"Because I'm being a bit difficult."

Tom paused before typing a short response back. "A bit?"

Her explanation came with more force than any of their conversation that night. As he read it Tom could see Sybil reverting to the girl she was at the hospital. The woman he loved was gone now - lost out of fear that others could see just how much she was beginning to let him in. It was likely she didn't want to see it either.

"Because I just want to be friends and I don't know what you want."

Yes, she did and what Sybil received in return was silence. It was his turn to ignore her.

Halfway through writing this chapter I remembered that the London tube doesn't run all night. Then I made an executive decision to ignore that fact because a) it ruined the plot trajectory and b) that is BANANAS to this New York girl. I just...I can't fathom it so god bless all of you Londoners who put up with that absolute INSANITY.

Sidenote: I don't do this much anymore but this chapter is a nod to the song of the same name by The Coronas. The song I named this fic after is also theirs. Definitely not necessary to check either out but I thought I'd mention it. Even in writing this story I'm so taken aback by how time happens and affects everyone so differently. It's kind of like how Sybil's age was such a big factor in Crash Into Me and now it's something we don't think of at all.

Life's weird…

Thanks for reading!

x. Elle