As always, thank you readers. All of you.
A BOY FALLING OUT OF THE SKY
February 2003
He came home early from a vacation to Belize.
Early morning hung over Chicago as he let himself into an apartment that brother and sister shared. This wasn't unusual. It was dark inside, the quiet sounds of Malucci's snores drifting down the hallway and unpleasantly meeting his ears. He dropped his bags by the front door — stopping here hadn't exactly been the plan, but overwhelming impulse won out. He tiptoed through the home, floorboards creaking beneath him as he made his way to Gracie's room; the door to which opened easily for him, shutting quietly in return and revealing nothing more than the simple sight of a streetlight's glow casting shadows across the bed of a deeply snoozing Gracie.
He watched her for a moment. Beautiful, she was, even with the dimmest of lighting. To him, at least. A sigh escaped from his lips, and he kicked off his shoes and took cautious steps towards her, sliding into bed opposite and eyeing her features carefully for any signs of stirring. One gentle finger reached out to brush against her nose. It twitched sleepily. "Gracie," he whispered hopefully.
"Mmm."
"Gracie—" Another simple brushing of skin against skin.
It took a while for her to respond, the sudden tearing away from sleep seeming, at least briefly, most unwelcome. She stirred again, cracked an eyelid, blinked and murmured exhaustedly, "You're home early."
"I want to marry you."
"What?"
With her sleep-tinged confusion, it was clear just why he had left early.
"I want to marry you," Carter repeated, this time a little slower, a little more heartfelt. If she hadn't been awake before, she was now. Gracie stared back at him from her place nestled under the covers, eyes wide and shocked. He wasn't joking — no, it was clear just how serious he was. And perhaps that was what scared her.
She said the first thing that came to mind.
"Why the hell would you want to marry me?"
His gaze on her was unwavering. "Because..." Carter began assuredly, "I can't imagine... doing anything without you."
Gracie blinked and said nothing. This was disconcerting. She was still, for all intents and purposes, pulling herself out of slumber, and it would have been quite easy to convince herself this was a dream, if she hadn't in fact carried the very real feeling of his weight in bed next to her. The silence hovered around them.
And then he shifted, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a velvet box.
"John..."
He said nothing in return, merely opened the small square box and revealed an antique diamond ring. She felt her eyes rolling to the back of her head — not out of disgust, or annoyance, but out of sheer disbelief. "You come home early from a diving trip to Belize, and wake me up at—" a pause here, as she checked the alarm clock on her nightstand, "—four thirty in the morning to propose?"
"I'm not drunk."
"I didn't say that you were."
"I just discovered my priorities."
She quirked a sleepy brow. "And your priorities involve marrying me and running off to the jungle, not necessarily in that order?"
"Something like that."
Gracie felt breathless. Too many thoughts were swirling in her head, and to have such a big question hanging over her when she had to be at work in two hours... wasn't exactly a joy to deal with. "I have to think about it."
He tried to disguise his upset, but she knew him well enough to know it when she saw it. "Really," she spoke up quickly, gently touching his cheek, her eyes falling briefly on the ring that must have been handed down in his family for generations, "I just... need to think. And I need you to be patient enough to just lay here next to me and let it be."
Silence. He pursed his lips together and gave the slightest of nods.
Gracie kissed him lightly, and his head fell to press against her collarbone, and they lay tangled together like that for what felt like ages; her eyes fixated on the ceiling, dilated with quick thinking and a disturbed heart.
Only the simplest of things could be true.
----
