a/n Thank you to the lovely people who reviewed that last chapter. I'm sorry that chapters of this story have been a little less frequent of late - I've been doing some more writing for some of my other stories, which you might want to check out if you're short of reading material. Happy reading!

The days that follow are quite the strangest of Clarke's life – and that's saying something.

She cannot get her head around this chopping and changing between joy and sorrow, security and fear. Because for every touch of Bellamy's hand against her own, and every whispered word of love they share, there are at least as many reminders that Madi's life is still in danger.

Amidst all these conflicting emotions, she rather expects to find herself unhinged. She rather expects that hated fog to descend, and expects to lose the plot. But somehow, she doesn't. She knows that is in large part thanks to Bellamy, but she is not so naive as to think it is only his influence. She knows that a loving relationship alone is not enough to keep her grounded, and knows that the support of her friends and family is part of it, too.

But she's not an idiot. She knows Bellamy plays the largest part.

He has always played a sizeable role in her life, of course, even when one or both of them was in love with someone else. But now that they are both pulling in the same direction, she gets the sense that they might be a tiny bit unstoppable. They have certainly got Sanctum running more smoothly, she notes, as he pronounces some of the older and more confident cadets already fit to go on patrol, and she announces the first of her hastily built new homes fit for habitation.

But, of course, their many talents and considerable abilities do not extend as far as curing their adolescent daughter of some unknown anomaly-induced illness.

Today is another sick day for Madi, only a handful of days since she last found herself bedbound from dawn until dusk, and Clarke has to admit that Bellamy might have been onto something when he suggested that her health seems to be getting worse. Certainly, it scares her to see her daughter yet again falling unwell without even leaving the house.

It is Bellamy who is up and about first this morning, and so he is the one to bring her the news as she is dozing and wondering whether she might have to leave the bed eventually.

"Clarke?" He reaches in for a kiss, and she wants to take the opportunity to wrap her arms around his neck and enjoy herself a little, but it quickly becomes clear that he has something other than a quick pre-work screw on his mind.

"What's wrong?"

"Madi's sick again. She – she doesn't look good, Clarke. She's shaking." Bellamy's shaking, too, she notes, evidently distressed at the thought of their little girl laid low.

She jumps out of bed and strides to the door, Bellamy hurrying right behind her. She sort of wants to spare a moment to wrap him in a soothing hug, but if Madi is in such a bad state she needs to be by her side. Within moments she has made it into her daughter's room and is perched on the side of her bed.

"Madi, honey? Your dad said you weren't feeling very well."

"I'm not." She frets, sounding rather more pathetic than commanding. "I – I feel like throwing up this time, too. I don't usually feel like that. I think it's getting worse, and I'm scared, Mum."

"Shh, baby." She climbs into the bed and pulls her into a hug, cradles her close while she cries with worry. "You're going to be OK. You've got a family full of doctors, remember? We're going to take care of you."

She hushes rather firmly that little voice in her mind that says, perhaps, they might not manage to take care of her. That traitorous voice that points out that, in fact, they have no idea how to take care of a girl experiencing this particular illness. For today, she reckons, she will simply have to keep that voice quiet and maintain her calm, because it is quite apparent that Bellamy is not feeling particularly calm, just now, as he paces up and down the very small space at the foot of their daughter's bed. And they cannot both be frantic at once. Bad things happen when they both lose their heads.

Madi wriggles a little, and pulls away from her arms, and that seems a little odd.

"What is it, honey?"

"It – it got worse when I hugged you." Madi explains, frowning hard, tears in her eyes. "I felt like fainting when you touched me."

Clarke is concerned at that, but she has to admit that she is not surprised. She could have predicted, based on the way this illness has been developing, that a time would come when adolescent Madi would not be able to bear contact with the baby Madi she is carrying. All the same, it's bad news. It looks like she is destined to spend at least a couple more months with a sick daughter, and now it seems she will not even be able to offer her a comforting hug.

"OK, Madi. Not to worry. I don't think that's very surprising, is it?" She looks up and meets Bellamy's eyes, tries to pass him a little hope and tranquillity. "I'm going to go to Medical and get you some medicine that will make you feel less nauseous. And then we're going to spend the day together reading and drawing, OK?"

"Yeah." Madi nods, uncharacteristically meek. "That sounds OK."

"Great." She gets to her feet, takes a couple of steps. Interrupts Bellamy's pacing and reaches up to whisper in his ear. "Sit down and tell her a story. You've got this."

She doesn't bother stopping to check that he follows her instruction. He mostly does, in her experience, and certainly when their daughter's happiness is involved. He might be struggling to rein in his emotions, just now, but she knows he will persevere with it for all their sakes.

Besides which, she has other things to get on with. She swaps her nightwear for clothing more suitable for an appearance in public, and sets out for Medical. At least she doesn't need to stop by her other workplace on this occasion. Things are running pretty smoothly at the moment, and if she does anything for Kane today it will be working on the map that sits in their living room already.

She arrives at the Medical Centre and is pleased to find it already populated, with Abby bending over a computer screen, and Octavia examining a selection of dried herbs.

"Madi's sick." Clarke announces without preamble. "She's nauseous this time, as well. Can I take her something for that?"

"I'll be right back." Abby tells her, and heads for the store room.

"How's she holding up?" Octavia asks, setting aside her task.

"Not well." Clarke admits sadly. "She's getting quite anxious about being sick all the time. And – your brother's a bit of a wreck, if I'm being honest."

"He used to get like that about me when I was a kid, too." Octavia reminisces. "I cut myself one time and he was so scared that I'd get caught or bleed to death or both."

"Any tips for calming him down?"

"Nope." Octavia shrugs. "You were always the only person who was any good at that. He's steadier since he met you than he was when we were kids."

"Maybe he's just grown up." Clarke says, not quite willing to meet her eyes, and not quite sure why.

"Or maybe you could take that as the compliment I meant it as." Octavia fires back, with something of her youthful spirit. "You two are good for each other."

"You might be right." She concedes, still not entirely comfortable with the idea of gushing about her relationship to a former tyrant, even a drastically reformed one.

As if sensing this, Octavia moves the conversation on in a new direction. "Can I come over to see Madi this afternoon? Abby wants to teach me how to make a Jacksonia poultice, and do a bit more work on tourniquets, but then I'm free."

"Sure. She'd love to have a visitor."

Abby walks back in at that point, a small jar in her hand, and joins the conversation. "I might stop by, too. It should be a quiet day here."

"That sounds lovely." Clarke confirms with a slightly strained smile as she takes the bottle of pills. She needs to get back to the house, and find out whether Bellamy and Madi have fallen apart completely in her absence.

"We'll see you later, then."

"Yeah. Thanks for the medicine, Mum. See you later."

She makes short work of the journey back to her home, and is in such a rush to open the door that she drops the key and has to scrabble in the dust for a few moments. She needs to get this door open, damn it, needs to find out whether the two people she loves the most in the world have lapsed into utter hysteria. She forces herself to take a calming breath, determined not to become panicky herself. And then, like the highly competent young woman she is, she successfully opens her own front door.

She closes it behind her again, and strides down the corridor to Madi's room.

On arrival she is met with something of a surprise. Not only are neither of them shaking, now, but there no tears, either. In fact, there aren't even that many overt signs of fear. It is only because she knows them both quite well, she thinks, that she is able to read the tension around Bellamy's jaw and the twitchiness in Madi's gaze.

"What are we up to?" She asks, striving to keep her tone light.

"Dad was telling me the funniest story." Madi pipes up, and sure enough, she is almost laughing. "He was telling me about this Unity Day party you had when you first landed, and how you had too much moonshine and started trying to play this drinking game, and he had to be the sensible one for a whole evening."

Suddenly, Clarke finds that she is giggling, and at the sound she sees the pair of them relax further. "I was trying to have fun."

"How'd that work out for you?" Bellamy asks, brows quirked, and of course, she has to kiss him for that.

"It worked perfectly." She tells him with a smile. "A hundred and thirty two years later, and I'm expecting your child. I call that a success."

"You know, you two are kind of gross." Madi informs them. Clarke can't say she blames her. She used to think her parents kissing was gross, too, when she was twelve years old.

…...

Bellamy goes to see to his cadets, and Clarke does draw that map for Kane for some little time, while Madi is napping, but when the girl wakes up she decides that she has done quite enough work for one day.

"How are you feeling, honey?"

"A bit better. I don't feel like throwing up any more."

"That's good. Do you feel ready to eat something?"

"I don't think so."

"Not even this apple bar?" Clarke offers out the snack, knowing full well that there is no way Madi will turn it down.

"I might be able to eat an apple bar." She concedes with something of her usual grin. "What's the plan for the rest of the day?"

"I thought we could draw for a while. And your Auntie O and Grandma Abby are going to come by when they're done at Medical."

"That sounds great." Madi agrees willingly enough, and bolts down her apple bar with impressive speed for someone who felt nauseous only a couple of hours ago.

Clarke risks leaving her for all of the two minutes it takes to gather some paper and those precious sticks of charcoal Bellamy sourced for their first at-home adventure, and finds, too, another apple bar. Just in case it should be required.

"What do you want to draw?" She asks on her return.

"I thought I might draw another picture of you. For Dad's desk."

"He already has a sketch of me on his desk." Clarke tells her, slightly flustered at the turn this conversation has taken.

"But I'm sure he'd like another one." Madi suggests with a grin. "What are you going to draw?"

"I might draw some more of my memories from Earth." She muses quietly. "And then your dad can tell you the stories that go with them."

Madi agrees cheerfully to that scheme, and they pass the time in quiet contentment. Clarke appreciates the opportunity to replace some of the sketches that were left behind when the world burned once again – it has been too long, she thinks, since she paid tribute to Roan, or Luna, or Lincoln. She has a selfish habit of remembering only those she has loved, she chastises herself now, and it is past time for her to make a start at remedying that.

Octavia and Abby appear at the door together not long later. In months gone by, Clarke thinks, she would have found this to be an unexpected partnership, but the two of them fall into the corridor laughing their lungs out about something Jackson has said that morning. In months gone by, she suspects, too, that she might have felt lonely at the sight of her relatives enjoying life without her, but she can't help but feel that there is plenty of happiness to go around, these days.

Meanwhile, Abby has subsided into giggles, and Octavia is making a game attempt at coherent conversation.

"Clarke, Madi. Hey."

"Auntie O! Do you like to draw?"

"I've never really tried it." Octavia murmurs, certainly no longer laughing. "I used to sew when I was your age, though."

"That sound so cool! Can you teach me?"

"I'm not sure, Madi. I'm better at sewing up people than dresses, these days."

"I want to learn how to do that, too, one day."

"You've got time for all these things, sweetie." Abby assures her. "Now that we have peace. I hope you get more choices than your parents' generation did."

"I'll make sure of it." Clarke chimes in, mock fierce, but thinking that's probably enough of seriousness for one drawing party. "Come on, O, you're learning how to draw."

If Octavia notices that she is now being referred to as O by the entire family, she does not complain about it. "I don't think this will be my greatest talent."

Madi insists, nevertheless, and shares her precious charcoal and a few encouraging words with her aunt. And Clarke sits back and chats with Abby about what has happened in Medical in recent days, and apple bars are eaten, and time passes all too easily.

When Clarke hears the door open, she rather presumes more time must have passed than she noticed. But then she checks the clock, realises it is still a good couple of hours until she was expecting Bellamy to return, and rather wonders what on Earth he's doing.

She is half way out of her seat when he enters the room. In her defence, she reckons it's pretty forgivable to be a bit slow at standing up now she's six months pregnant.

"Hey, guys." Bellamy greets them all with a grin. "Mind if I join?"

"You're home early." Clarke comments, finally making it to that standing pose and walking over to press her lips to his cheek.

"Are you complaining?" He asks, taking the seat she so recently vacated and gesturing to her to sit in his lap.

"No. It's good to see you." She concedes, tentatively accepting his invitation. She's not tried this before, and she's not exactly at her lightest just now, but Bellamy seems to think nothing of wrapping an arm around her waist and relaxing back into his chair.

"What have we been up to this afternoon?" He asks the room at large.

Madi and Octavia offer up their sketches for inspection. They have drawn each other, and Clarke is impressed that their faces are, at least, recognisable.

"Not bad for a first attempt, Octavia." Abby offers kindly.

"Not bad?" Bellamy asks, mock-indignant. "I'd say that's pretty great, O."

"The nose is wrong." Clarke sort of hates herself for noticing, and for undermining Bellamy's attempts to be a cheerful and encouraging brother, but the nose is wrong, and naked honesty has always been one of her strengths.

"It is?" Octavia frowns at the paper before her, then at her grinning niece.

"It is." Clarke confirms. "Sorry. But Madi's got her dad's nose."

Octavia's still frowning, now taking in Clarke and Bellamy as well as Madi and the drawing. "How did I not notice that?"

"How did I not notice it sooner, when I spent six months staring at him and then six years raising Madi?" Clarke asks by way of response. "I can't believe I never noticed the resemblance until that DNA test."

"I don't think you can blame yourself." Bellamy speaks up, tone light. "However much she might look like us, she already existed before we got together. That seems like a good enough reason for you to have thought she probably wasn't related to us."

"I'm glad you realised eventually." Madi pipes up.

"So are we, kid." Bellamy says what Clarke is thinking, too. "We're so glad we worked it out."

Madi grins at that, and solicits opinions on her drawing, which is a pretty accurate if unsophisticated portrait of her aunt. And her audience gushes over it for a few minutes, of course, because that is what the loving relatives of a sick child do, and Clarke leans back against Bellamy and sets about feeling somewhat content.

"Did you draw anything?" He murmurs against her ear, as the other occupants of the room move on to a lively discussion of Octavia's hairstyle.

"Yeah." Clarke whispers back to him. "That map for Kane."

"Not what I meant." He chides, softening his words with a kiss behind her ear. "Did you draw anything for you?"

She admits defeat, and leans across to grab the sketch of Roan that she set down nearby. "Here."

Bellamy is silent for a long moment, peering around her shoulder at the drawing, and she is beginning to wonder why on Earth that should be the case. He is presumably not about to tell her that she sucks at drawing, nor about to criticise her choice of subject matter, but he's really not speaking and she's beginning to find it a little odd.

Then he does speak, muttering against her ear, and it grows only odder.

"I never liked him, you know."

"What?" She understands the words. She just doesn't understand why he's saying them at this moment in time.

"I never liked him. I found him arrogant, and I think I was a bit threatened by him, and I didn't like the way he looked at you. But now he's dead, and I'm alive, with a beautiful little girl and her beautiful mother." She knows what he's not saying, of course. She's getting good at that now. She knows that he's feeling survivor's guilt so thick he feels he could drown in it.

She knows, because she's feeling that, too.

"I don't think you wished that into being. It's not as if Praimfaiya and that conclave happened because you were jealous of him."

"No. That's true." He concedes, hugging her a little tighter.

"We can't feel bad about surviving forever." She whispers, wondering whether that's true. She knows it's not healthy to feel bad about it forever, but all the same, she thinks she may well manage it.

"You're right." He murmurs, lips tickling the lobe of her ear. "I guess it's time to get on with living."

…...

The house empties of people, as the evening draws on, and empties likewise of noise, and Madi is tucked up in bed for the night, and Clarke finds herself curled up on the sofa with Bellamy, doing nothing in particular.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" He asks, toying idly with the ends of her hair.

"Can we just sit and chat?" She asks, unaccountably nervous at suggesting the idea. Will he think it's a bit lame, somehow, a bit pathetic, to want such a thing?

"Sure we can."

"Thanks. I know we've spent the whole afternoon together but – it's not exactly been a date, has it?"

His lips quirk a little, and it reminds her somehow of Earth. It reminds her in particular of a wave of fire bearing down on them, and of oxymorons, and of falling in love the first time round.

As if he has read her mind, he drops a kiss on her hairline. "It must be tough, staying home with her every time. That's why I sent the cadets home for the afternoon, I thought you might need the company."

"Yeah. Thanks. I love her so much, but you're right. It's not easy sitting and watching her feel ill all day. I think – if she's well again tomorrow, I might go have lunch with Raven and Echo and Emori. I need to get out of the house and see people." She rather surprises herself with quite how strongly she wants a little human interaction, now, in sharp contrast to her avoidance of everyone a couple of months ago.

"That sounds good." He agrees.

"It was good to have my mum and O come over, too."

"Is it weird that I find it cool that Madi has a grandmother?"

She laughs at that, but it is tinged with sadness. "I know what you mean. My mum's mum was still alive when I was very small, though."

"I didn't know that." He says thoughtfully. "Still, though. It's good that she has grandparents."

"And she's the only Skaikru kid with an aunt." She points out round a yawn.

He lets that sit for a moment, occupies himself with rubbing a hand over the swell of her belly instead of replying. And she relaxes into his embrace, feels some of the exhaustion of the day melt away, and finds it rather easier than normal to ignore that nagging ache that seems to have found a permanent home in her lower back, of late.

He begins speaking again some minutes later, determination in his voice. "When all this is over, and Madi's better, I need to take you out to have fun. I know we've done things in completely the wrong order, Clarke, but I want everything with you. I want to take you on a stupid first date, like those dances kids used to go to on the Ark. And I want to get completely wasted and tell you that you look like a princess, and I want us to have messy sex up against a tree out in the woods, and all of those other things we never got to do."

"If this is all over one day." She reminds him. "If Madi gets better."

"She will." He tells her, sounding rather fierce. "I'll make sure of it. I'm not letting this happy ending get away from me again."

"I'll hold you to that." She squeezes his thigh gently. "For what it's worth, I enjoyed our first date."

"What was our first date?" He asks, understandably confused.

"When you decided I needed a late birthday party and we watched that movie. I know you didn't necessarily mean it as a date but – I kind of thought of it as one anyway." She mutters, feeling suddenly shy.

"I wanted it to be a date." He confirms. "But I wasn't sure how to tell you that I wanted that."

"I think I realised that, if I was being honest with myself." She tells him, daring to attempt a half smile. "The whole cuddling and movie and sex thing was a bit of a giveaway. Still up for some messy sex against a tree, though."

He laughs at that, loud and long, and it is the best sound she has heard in centuries.

…...

Clarke does get the chance to eat lunch with her friends the following day, and she is heartily glad of it. She does not begrudge her daughter the time she spends taking care of her, of course, because she loves her even more than she loves Bellamy – and that's saying something. But all the same, she is looking forward to getting out of the house and spending some time laughing at anecdotes of the antics of Murphy, or the incompetence of Echo's students. So it is that she is in good spirits as she takes her place at the table.

"How's Madi?" Echo is the first one to ask the question which is, Clarke suspects, on all their minds.

"Fine again, today." Clarke shakes her head. "It's frightening, but it doesn't seem to do her any lasting harm."

"That's good. Give her my love." Echo almost smiles.

"Send my best wishes, too." Raven chimes in.

"And me." Emori adds. "You may as well tell her John says hi, too. He probably would, if he remembered to care."

Clarke laughs at that. "He doesn't deserve you."

Emori shrugs. "He was the first person in my life who looked at me like I wasn't a monster. You don't forget a thing like that."

Clarke supposes that might be true, actually. But Raven clearly thinks that Emori's words are a load of sentimental rubbish, worthy of friendly derision, and so it is that they laugh a little and then move on to the most important issue of the day.

"We need to get drinks soon." Raven announces, tone strident. "We haven't done that for a couple of weeks."

"We can't do tonight. I have plans." Echo informs them.

"Plans? With your hot but dull archery guy?" Raven jumps on the topic.

"Not exactly."

"With another guy?" Emori asks.

"With a girl?" Clarke asks, with a pointed look at her friends for having, apparently, not considered this possibility.

"I don't have those kind of plans." She tells them, eyes narrowed at their silliness. "Kane's asked me to cover for him while he takes Abby out for the evening."

"He's done what?" Raven appears to be in danger of expiring from shocked excitement.

"He asked me to be available tonight, in case Indra's team call in while he's out." Echo shrugs a little.

"So you're deputy Kane now?" Emori asks, eyes narrowed.

"I believe the term is acting Head of Security." Clarke informs them nonchalantly, less than surprised by this development. She does have a desk in Kane's office. It is not news to her that Echo might be asked to stand in on the military side of things if he should choose to take the night off.

"You knew about this?" Raven turns to Clarke, now.

"Yeah. It's not surprising, is it? Echo's been helping organise the patrols for weeks. Of course Kane would ask her to stand in if he's going out for the evening."

"We should go out the next night." Emori suggests now. "We've got a lot of things to celebrate."

"Yeah." Clarke agrees easily. "We definitely have."

…...

Clarke is not easily confused. It is something she prides herself on, in fact, her ability to make sense of things, and solve problems, and work out puzzles. So it is that she rather dislikes being confused on this occasion.

She cannot for the life of her work out why Bellamy is so quiet during sex, of late.

Of course, by that, she does not mean that he makes no noise. There is still heavy breathing aplenty, and of course there are certain sounds of slapping, and friction, and the like. But there is not a lot of talking, and she's pretty sure there's less groaning, and even moaning seems to have reached an all-time low. Just now, for example, she is on all fours on the bed – and she'd like it on record that this isn't necessarily very comfortable whilst six months pregnant, thank you very much – and he is kneeling behind her, thrusting into her with considerable force and frequency, and he's panting so desperately that she thinks he might be about to expire.

But he's barely said a word. And she's established before that this is not exactly the most productive position in the world, for her, and that she really does like it when he's a little louder. She's even told him, she remembers, that she likes to hear him say her name, that it helps to get her going. And she's certainly shown him that she appreciates a good bit of groaning, and the odd frantic gasp.

So she cannot for the life of her understand this strange reticence. It is even worse, from that point of view, than their very earliest attempts at sex. And she's really getting a bit uncomfortable, now, between the extra weight pulling at her back, and the wrong kind of friction where he's pushing into her, and if she's going to have any hope of keeping things slick enough to enjoy this he's going to need to get her a bit more engaged.

"Talk to me." She mutters, bracing herself against the bed.

He stills for a moment, hands holding fast to her hips, and chokes out a question in between harsh breaths. "What?"

"I – erm – I need you to talk to me." She feels herself flush, and decides that the fact he cannot see her face is one of the few advantages of their current orientation. "You know how I said before, about how – hearing you say my name gets me going?"

She bites her lip, shocked that she managed to convince herself to get that sentence out.

"Right. Sorry." He starts moving again, slowly at first, but its enough to make her wince a little. "Of course."

He gets back into his rhythm, and in all honesty she's about to pull the plug on this whole thing. She's pregnant, for goodness' sake, so she thinks she's probably allowed to say she's not feeling it tonight. And he's a generally understanding guy, but seeing as their relationship was built on sex in the first place – well, she finds herself feeling a bit insecure about what might happen if she doesn't want him to screw her all the damn time.

She is about to do it, about to ask him to call it a night, when she finds the moon moving beneath her in a most unexpected way.

"I love you, Clarke."

He is not groaning loud enough to wake the whole village, not as she had grown used to, before his recent taciturn twist. No, he is moaning, whispering, even, and the unexpected intimacy of it stands in rather sharp contrast, she notes, to this position she has come to think of as at least a little animalistic.

"You feel so good, Clarke, and I love you so much."

She has to admit, this is not what she was expecting, when she asked him to talk to her.

"Yes, Clarke. Yeah."

She is almost disappointed when he's done. She was rather wondering what other completely unexpected declarations of love he might come up with.

She puts that thought aside, then, as she finds herself occupied by other things. Namely, on this occasion, his fingers, teasing her towards completion. And then he's whispering in her ear, her name, of course, but more words of love, too, and it's all really rather wonderful and so not something she realised she needed in her life, until today.

It doesn't take her long to fall apart around his hand. He's got to know her quite well, in recent months.

He withdraws his fingers, and cradles her close to his chest, and she finds herself staring in fascination at the faded wallpaper and trying to get her head around what just happened.

"Was that OK?" He asks, when her breathing has returned to normal, sounding for all the world as if he is nervous.

"Yes." She assures him with some enthusiasm. "That was definitely OK."

"Good." She feels him breathe a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry I've been a bit quiet recently. I just – all I keep thinking, all I keep wanting to say, is how much I love you. But I was worried that might come across as a bit weird during sex."

"I liked it." She tells him easily. "It was kind of hot."

"You're allowed to have preferences in bed more often, remember?"

She has a feeling he's looking for an answer to that. She has a feeling that she's supposed to have come up with something, since they last had this conversation, something beyond the fact that she likes orgasms. But her back aches and her feet ache and her breasts ache and she's exhausted. And yes, she has to admit it, she's still feeling a bit nervous in this area, when she thinks about his track record, set against hers.

It will wait for another night, she tells herself firmly. They have a lifetime together, now, to balance out that lifetime they have spent apart. And she will come back to this on some other occasion, when she feels less preoccupied, and less pregnant.

There is, however, one thing that will not wait for another night.

"I love you. Even after a hundred and thirty one years, and you getting together with Echo, and putting the flame in Madi. I think probably our relationship will survive if ever you do say something weird in bed."

He laughs at that, and nuzzles into her hair a little. "I love you, too."

She cannot resist the urge to tease. "I noticed."

She can still feel him chuckling as she falls asleep.

a/n Thanks for reading!