22. Upriver

The horse didn't hurry. Peter assumed it was for a good reason. Had there been cause for distress, it would have gone faster. If the white horse was calm, then there was nothing to worry about. Nothing more to worry about, at least.

The side of his face was partly numb. Her kiss woven into his skin. Her touch solidifying, the frost gathering where her lips had been. Peter felt dizzy and a bit awkward. He was a grown man. He couldn't react like this to something so simple. So sweet and harmless and nice.

"Peter."

"Yes?"

His voice, once again, a faraway call.

"You've been quiet," she murmured.

"I'm… I'm not much of a talker, heh. You know."

She hesitated before saying: "I didn't offend you, did I?"

"What?"

"I… Well, when I kissed you?"

"Offend me?"

The question rose from a hidden place, deep in his chest. This time his voice was close, he knew where it came from, who it was coming from, and yet it sounded strange. Different. Alarmed and warm with emotion.

He turned to look at her. Beverly's face was flushed a creamy pink. From the shadow of her brow, her depthless eyes found his.

"Why would you think that?"

"I don't want to assume anything," she whispered. "I acted recklessly. I don't know if you're married, or promised, and besides…" Her chin rested on his shoulder, on the coarse cloth of his coat. "I know that I'm in no position to be anyone's desire."

"Beverly."

"It's true. And I'm not offended by it. It's just the truth. That's why I've never had suitors before." Beverly grinned again, that stubborn, beautiful smile. "Well, I think that's why, at least. Maybe it's because I'm not as charming as I perceive myself to be."

She chuckled softly and Peter Lake's heart cracked open. John had said it. Do you think anyone's wanted her? Love and want. Two different things. Had anyone loved her? Unless they were blind and deaf, yes. By god, yes. Peter wouldn't allow himself to think otherwise. But… had anyone wanted her? A sick, strange girl. Cold. Dying. Lovely, but finite. Everyone is finite, but some go faster than others. And people often dislike to be confronted about it.

"I…" he stopped himself. He had to. But then he couldn't help it. He relaxed. He allowed his lips to move. "I liked it. When you kissed me, I mean."

"You did?"

"Yes… It was nice."

"So you're not promised? Or married?"

"Please," he said, with some amusement, "you flatter me by assuming I could be either of those things."

"How come?" she asked.

"I mean, you… you say that you're in no position to be anyone's desire. That no one could ever love you. And ma'am- uh, Beverly, that's just… it's not true. You're lovely. And- And you listen to people. And you're funny. And you're just- just… you're wonderful."

He was sinking in the pools of turquoise. Her eyes. Her face. Her parted lips, no longer curled in a smile. Simply open. And he wanted to kiss her, he wanted to, and maybe she wanted him to, as well, but he was too scared of it. He didn't want to offend her, either.

"And I'm not," he continued. "I'm none of those things. I'm a lowly bastard who's dumb as a rock… I'm a thief… I'm ugly…"

"I don't think you're ugly," said Beverly.

"Well, you're in the minority."

She laughed, and it was lovely, and Peter smiled.

"You're not ugly," she told him.

"I'm still a thief."

"With heavy feet."

He laughed at this. And she with him.

"Like I said, dumb as a rock."

"You're not dumb."

"You don't know me yet."

"Neither do you know me, and yet you're telling me I'm lovely. So I tell you, you're not ugly, and you're not dumb."

"Your word is gospel, Beverly."

"It is, indeed. You must listen to me."

Her hold tightened softly around him. Her face cradled on the curve of his neck. And after some time, she whispered:

"I know I barely know you... but I like you."

"I like you, too."

"I'm glad. I'm very glad."

And Peter said: "Me too."

Author's Note: If there's anyone here today, thank you for reading my fanfiction. It means a lot to me. I've been sick these last couple of days. Turns out I have a stomach virus. That tends to last around 4-5 days. Hopefully tomorrow I feel less awful.