"How are you doing today," Avaline asked as Laure came down the stairs.

She looked better than she had in months, her hair done up in a loose bun, her light day dress flowing around her as she went about barefoot. The young woman smiled at Avaline and moved to take the tray from her, "I am alright. I will take this tray to my father if you may fill up the water pitcher so I can tend to mother's boxes." Avaline smiled and nodded as Laure disappeared into the sun room, the au pair settling into her role as head of house nicely. Laure still controlled the money but as far as the house went, Avaline made most of the decisions and kept the help in line.

"Daddy?"

Lucien was staring out over the estate with his head half-hung, his mind barely present. He had gone mad with grief after the death of his wife and it was all Laure could do to inform him of what day it was. His care was her obligation and she made sure to take care of him, making sure he was also comfortable.

"Adelaide, where have all the children gone? What has been done with all of our children," he asked in a mumble of words, looking up at Laure. Most days Lucien thought she was her mother and she would not correct him, not when it was all that kept him as sane as he was. She smiled and set the tray in his lap, reaching out to stroke his hair, "I would not worry dear. They will return soon- they always do…"

He smiled and began to eat, Laure ignoring the dull ache in her heart as she returned to the kitchen.

On the porch, Laure carefully tipped the water pitcher over the several window boxes, being careful not to overwater the orchids or day lilies Adelaide had loved and cared for so fondly. She sighed and looked towards the sun, feeling the breeze ruffle her hair.

"Mmmhm."

She heard the sound of hoof beats and opened her eyes, the water pitcher clattering to the ground at her feet. A familiar figure sat astride a rather thin horse, galloping towards the house as she stared at the vision. Laure was sure she was imagining the moment, but it just seemed so… real.

Laure felt her heart stop as the rider slowed and dismounted, wondering if it could possibly be that Henry was alive.

Besieged by a hopeful fear that pained her, she took a step off of the porch before taking pause. "Please," she whispered, her hands clasped before her. "Please, sweet Jesus, let it be him." The disbelieving joy that it was her love, returned to her from the beyond, was overcome by the intense fear that it was someone other than Henry; it would be unimaginable to hope- even for an instant- that she had not lost him and then to find that indeed she had.

"My love," that sweet, familiar voice called out, Laure freezing as she began to take another step.

The happiness was so overpowering that she could literally not take another step- she could only stand there, waiting for him to come to her so that she could hold him and feel with her own hands that he had not perished, that by some miracle he had survived the massacre.

Henry came walking towards her, slow and steady in his gait, his breathing carefully paced as if the very notion pained him. He looked well, dressed in a dirty and worn but beautiful uniform, his hair mussed and his cheeks streaked with mud.

He paused a foot away from her and she wondered what she was supposed to say, being that cognitive speech had left her. Laure wished to tell him how ecstatic she was that he was alive and to tell him of how much his love meant to her, knowing that she did not have words adequate enough to say such things. Instead, she filled her eyes with all the joy she was feeling, tears forming there as well as she attempted to swallow the knot in her throat.

"You are… home," she said finally, Laure's voice seeming to fail her as she met his eyes. Henry himself felt his eyes prick around the edges, acknowledging the burning sensation there. "I came back because I love you," he said, his eyes seeming to shimmer like diamonds. Henry then pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her tightly as she wept, unashamed of her tears for once. Laure wept for the revelation of his love, for the unfairness of the fates that had once separated them before bringing the two back together again, for what now seemed the cruel choice that she would have to give up her life and her humanity to share in his. Henry, however, did not weep.

He did not have capabilities to do so.

Laure laid back against Henry's chest as they sat on the swing, staring out over the lake, both of them silent. She had claimed his hand and was currently running her fingers over the tips of his, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

"I was wrong," she finally spoke, Henry letting out a soft exhale.

"No," he replied, sliding his fingers through hers and clasping her hand tightly. "You were hurt. I hurt you."

He kissed the top of her head and inhaled the scent of her hair, thankful that he could again do that. "I was wounded, laid in the middle of that massacre with three areas through my chest, one close to my heart. I thought for a moment that I was content to lay there, to die… but then I realized that I was not. I could not die without seeing your face one last, die without apologizing and making things right. And so I dragged myself into the woods, feeding off of small animals until my body could start to heal. It took a long time," Henry murmured, Laure quiet once more in his arms. He acknowledged the aching her weight caused on his chest, but he would not have parted himself for her for the world.

Laure swallowed and moved to look up at him, stroking his cheek with her free hand, "I love you Henry."

"And I love you," he replied tenderly, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered on the apex of her jaw and neck for a moment and he had to swallow back venom, her blood like wine. "I have to leave you for a while, but I can be here in the morning." She shook her head with a sad, but coy smile and pulled herself into a sitting position, apprehensive of her next words. "You can come back tonight, if you wish…"

"Do you not think that improper?"

She looked at him ruefully then, bringing his hand up to her face, "I have lived without you for months, have thought you were dead… I do not care what is improper- forgive me for not wanting to let you out of my sight, Henry."

With a nod he gave in to her wishes, the two of them standing to say their momentary goodbyes. Henry grabbed her face between his hands and kissed her passionately, trying to be careful with how fragile she was. When he pulled away, Laure was searching his face, her small hands resting over his. "Let us go away together. We could be married tomorrow and just… leave. There is nothing I need except you- not a church, or hundreds of people, or flowers, or cake," Laure said, her words coming out in a rush. "I do not even desire having cake Henry; I just want you."

"Laure," Henry said evenly, giving her the hint of a smile when it looked like she was about to cry. "We could get married tomorrow, but that would not be right. It is not what your mother would want and it is far less than what you deserve. Give me one week- that is enough time to have a dress and a minister and cake. You may not like cake, but I for one enjoy it. We will be married next week."

She smiled and raised up on the tips of her toes, feeling his hands in her hair.

"Whatever pleases you, my love."