Henrik had arrived home sooner than he thought he would, and he sighed with pleasure as he stepped into his flat, letting his bag fall to the floor with a heavy thud. He had managed to sleep through the entire flight, but it was not a restful sleep, since he knew that he had had many nightmares, judging from the commiserating look his seatmate had given him as they waited to get off the plane. He had wanted to return her handkerchief once more, but the blonde had merely shook her head before scurrying off into the crowd.
Letting out a long breath, he trudged into the living room, pressing the flashing button on his answering machine. There were five new messages, one from Graham, reminding him that he was scheduled to work that evening, and the other four were from Roxanna. There was a bubbling excitement in her voice as she babbled on, telling him each time that she knew he wasn't home yet, she was just calling to hopefully, maybe, catch him.
He had just shrugged out of his coat, going to hang it up on it's hook, when the phone rang once again, and he smiled as he slung the coat over his arm and picked up the receiver, holding it to his ear. "Hello, Roxy."
"How did you know it was me?" she asked, trying to sound indignant, even as a yawn interrupted her words.
"Well, you were the one who left the last four messages on my machine. Who else would it be?"
"Touché," she replied as he chuckled a little, heading over to the hooks and hanging his coat up before toeing out of his shoes and padding into the kitchen to start a kettle of water to boil before rummaging around in his cupboard for the perfect flavor of tea. "What are you making?"
"Tea," he replied offhandedly, still moving tins and boxes around. "Why?"
"Make yourself Lady Grey, the box is in the back of your cupboard. You won't want the extra caffeine of your usual go-tos, not if you want to sleep before your shift." He smiled a little as his hand finally touched the box she was talking about. "Anyway, I have words to say to you."
Henrik could hear that there was a hint of humour in the biting words she spoke, and he chuckled a little. "What words might you have for me, Roxy?" he asked as he measured out enough tea leaves for a large mug of tea, having the feeling that they would be talking for at least an hour.
"Firstly, you can't leave a person, a person you claim to love, like that in the airport."
"I told you that I loved you, before I…"
"Before you pressed an engagement ring into my hand and scarpered down the jetway without a backwards glance. How did you even know that I was going to say yes?"
"Because you love me just as much as I love you." Henrik dropped the tea ball into his mug, waiting for the kettle to start whistling. "Or did I make a mistake?"
He tried to sound light and airy, like he was joking, but there was still a little tremor of apprehension in his voice. "Oh, Henrik, no. You didn't make a mistake. And of course I said yes! I want to spend the rest of my life with you, marriage or not. You complete this part of me that I never knew was empty until you walked into my life. And you had to have seen me in the window! You waved at me, for heaven's sake!"
"I did, yes. I just…" It was hard to tell her his fears, since he had kept everything inside for so long. The was a long pause before he took a few deep breaths. "I just…"
"You can trust me, Henrik. I won't judge you, and we have the safety of distance, so you won't see if I start to cry. Or, if we're both being honest, when I start to cry. We've both lost our mothers, we've both experienced great loss in our lives. I just don't want to lose you."
Her voice broke in that moment, and he so wished he was still there to hug her tightly to his chest. There wouldn't be the need for words, then, he could just hold her and rock her and let her know how much he loved her. But still, he knew that wasn't an option, with her at Rigden and him at home. "You won't lose me, Roxanna." He took a deep breath. "It's my insecurities that are at play right now. You know my reticence to talk about my feelings."
"I do, yes. Henrik…?"
"I gave you that ring with the intention of you becoming my wife. But there's this small voice in the back of my head that whispers you'll leave me, that you'll find out I'm not good enough for you, because I don't show affection as easily as other people do. That you'll decide I'm not worth your time, and find someone who is, someone like David. So really, it's I who worry so much about losing you."
The kettle started to whistle, and he sniffled a little before turning the burner off and pouring the water into his mug before taking a seat at the table and wrapping his hands around the mug, letting the heat of the tea bleed into his skin. Listening carefully, he could hear Roxanna's shuddery breaths on the other end of the line and knew he had made her cry. That insidious voice started to rise up in his mind, only for Roxanna to speak. "That voice is trying to make you feel bad about me crying, isn't it? Henrik?"
"Yes," he breathed out, feeling relieved to know that she understood.
"Please, tell that voice to fuck off." That was the first time he had ever heard her swear, and he chuckled out of surprise. "I know, but that voice deserves strong language! If I were there with you, we would be curling up on the sofa together, my head on your chest, your hand rubbing up and down my arm as I sipped at my tea, and we would work through this together. Probably without saying too many words." She sighed a little. "I love each and every part of you, Henrik Hanssen. And while I might be Doctor MacMillan in the professional working sphere, I will proudly be Mrs Roxanna Hanssen in the private sphere. That has such a nice ring to it, don't you think?"
"I do," he responded before taking a sip of his tea. "You know that I can't promise you everything will be sunshine and roses, right?"
"If you promised me that, I would never have slipped your ring on my finger. But it looks like I'm not the first to wear this ring. Would this have been your mother's ring?"
"Yes."
"Oh, my god, Henrik, that is so romantic! I know that you say you're not, but this gesture? This just proves that you have such a tender heart in there."
"It's a tender heart only for you," he replied as he allowed his head to fall back on the arm of the sofa. "I wish that it was cheaper to talk on the phone, but I am starting to feel positively knackered. And you need to get to sleep! It's nearly five in the morning in Boston!"
"I may have set my alarm and fallen asleep as soon as I arrived home. Because I wanted to be somewhat coherent when I talked to you. But if you need to sleep, I understand…"
"You know what, one short sleep on the sofa won't kill me. How about you talk at me until I just can't keep my eyes open any longer?"
"I can do that. What do you want to hear?"
"Tell me about your favorite mythological story, and why. For some reason, I can see you as a Persephone admirer."
"You'd almost be right," she started, and he stretched out on the sofa, allowing the dulcet tones of her voice to wash over him as he fought to stay awake for a few minutes longer, wanting to listen to her for as long as possible.