The hearth was blazing, there was a stack of books on the sofa, and the two of them had quietly cuddled up in it. Cocoa was yet to be made, but so far this was turning out to be a lovely evening, the room cosy and safe as the artificial storm rolled through and the muffled sounds of thunder sometimes made it to his study in the heart of the mansionhouse.

Bernice was laid down across Braxiatel's lap, holding a book up and reading it out loud to him as he idly stroked at her hair. He knew this story. It was one of hers, after all. But as many stories are, it was better told, and her first-hand account was a perspective far different than imagination could ever truly grasp. The same could be said for all the rest- in this volume's compilation and beyond.

As she recited them, Irving had been picturing her words in perfect clarity... but then everything paused. Stopping at a page, Benny's eyes narrowed and she grimaced. "The editor changed this bit- I didn't have a gun here. It was just a sonic trowel. So much for a true story..." Benny sighed and let the book fall down, resting open on her chest.

"Not enough action?"

"Ha! Plenty of that- maybe the resolution was just too ridiculous to make sense to anyone else without a little extra violence." She rolled her eyes and huffed.

That was certainly an amusing theory, but of course in general, violence did also sell- the figures for this one were pretty good- Benny didn't know if it was worse or better that way, but regardless of her opinion on it, at least it wasn't just because the cover on the normal paper edition didn't exactly depict her with many clothes on. Braxiatel would typically rebind his copies to make them match... and lucky for Bernice, because that meant he wasn't looking down at a picture like that when they were in a position like this and not in the right mood for it.

But Braxiatel only chuckled and stroked her cheek at the comment on how normal audiences cared too about boring logic and continuity, yet regardless added guns to undermine both. "Well, much of what you do is too ridiculous to make sense to begin with, Bernice."

"Oi!" she teased. But Bernice didn't exactly fight him on it.

But that only left him intrigued. If it got changed, what really happened? While spinning a ludicrously inaccurate tale of history for his own amusement was something Brax was fond of when he could get away with it, he did still like knowing the truth behind the curtains. And as the author was currently splayed across his lap, that wasn't something particularly difficult to garner. Irving just had to ask.

"Well, what was the real ending this time?"

Recalling what actually happened, in hindsight did sound pretty preposterous. As did a large majority of her misadventures, really.

"...Using the priceless relic as a hook onto a cord so I could zipline away, and trying to follow me made the interrogator cartoonishly walk off a cliff, I think."

Braxiatel smirked. "...Yes, that would do it. Tame for you, but unsurprising. Does he actually die, or is that just another embellishment?"

She made a 'hmph' noise. "I'm not sure. Didn't really have time to look back and check exactly how much of an anticlimax it was."

"Oh, well- that choice makes sense at least," he joked. "Can't have a good story without a climax, can they?"

She playfully rolled her eyes and blew a strand of hair from her face, strongly resisting the urge to make a filthy joke. "Thanks, Anyway..." Bernice yawned, got up to her feet and stretched, stealing a kiss on the way. "Gonna make that cocoa now. Maybe pick another book?"

He flushed a little, glancing away. "What sort would you like this time?"

"Surprise me!" She dove into the kitchen, before peeking out the door frame and calling back to him. "Do you want whipped cream, marshmallows, or nothing in it?"

Irving brushed off the question as silly and childish, scoffing at the thought while he shuffled through the pile of candidates on the table next to him. "Please, Bernice, I'm a grown man. Naturally, I would like marshmallows."

Benny huffed fondly and disappeared again, and the last thing he heard of her was, "Alright, just a moment!"

Braxiatel sighed, twiddling his fingers and staring at the clock. He'd actually selected a book for in case she wanted a different one and didn't have a preference already before they'd even sat down. There wasn't really much to do right now aside from sinking into his own head.

And at the moment, he didn't particularly want to do that either.

The wait was already seeming so agonizing. Irving Braxiatel was nothing if not patient, but it was one of those days- so right now he was nothing. Paranoia had just decided to have a go at him, too. Bernice had been worried about losing everything, he was worried about losing her. It would subside back to normal concern for a loved one, given a little time, but at the moment, Brax could hardly sit still without her in his line of sight.

This would be the death of him.

Still, he carried on, tapping his foot, adding new bits to the mental equations he always needed to hopefully take a marginally smaller amount of effort over time, considering what he would have for dinner tomorrow, and admiring the brushwork on his favourite one of the landscapes of the grounds for the umpteenth time.

Anything but the ridiculousness of pining for a woman who'd ought to be less than twenty feet away from him and was already returning his affections.

But, at long last, Benny finally returned, carrying two large mugs of sweet, scalding liquid, pushing him one before sitting down next to him.

"Here you go- marshmallows for you, whipped cream for me. Cheers."

"Cheers." Brax gladly accepted the mug as Benny leaned on his shoulder, holding his other hand. The touch quelled his fears instantly.

Braxiatel had never been tactile- the nature of a life like his was all in aesthetics, not feeling. To practically everyone, he despised most physical contact at all- a natural discomfort for a Time Lord, especially one who had experienced torture... but not with Bernice. He trusted her with himself. And when her warm, human skin met his in the gentlest of ways, those inhibitions fell away and it ever so briefly freed so many of the good feelings that he held repressed.

That didn't make it easy to start things off- to hold out being like that made the adjustment to their intimacy awkward and strange. But things came more or less naturally now, slowly. Brax didn't have to be drifting down from a high in the sheets or completely unconscious to cuddle up without thinking twice.

And Bernice- well. One would never believe she could normally stand it only about as well as him, just granting that trust to a few more people and having actual prior experience.

And that was always a comfort to Irving as well, having been among those few. He didn't say it though, just slipping his hand behind her back and wrapping it around her waist, pulling Benny closer.

He wanted to say something, but couldn't think of it, so just took a sip of his cocoa, marshmallows already starting to melt. It was good.

He still was weak in that area, admitting things out loud. After all, it had been an obstacle for him confessing for a couple of thousand years, nearly even given the help of knowing those feelings were returned- that wasn't changing anytime soon. He scarcely trusted anyone, with so many secrets, and so much deep below the surface- what he needed to hold close to keep safe and what he didn't were constantly muddled.

So instead, Irving made gestures. Small or large, just to display his affection. Favours, or gifts, or contact. He'd be able to speak his mind about it properly one day, surely. But that was still a long way off.

He softly hummed as Benny sipped her hot chocolate, her hand drifting up to his cheek. He leaned into it. Her palms were rough and calloused, but it was just another detail Braxiatel was privy to feel. She stroked up and down the side of his face, slowly, delicately, and his eyelids fluttered, slowly drifting shut.

Bernice slurped at her drink and grinned smugly. Brax couldn't see it with his eyes closed, but he could practically feel it.

"Enjoying this, are you?"

"I suppose."

She teasingly took her hand away and Braxiatel's eyes flickered open again. She'd shifted over to get the next book he'd picked out. It was all over far too soon.

Benny scoffed loudly.

"You have got to be kidding me."

"What?" he glanced over innocently. But Brax could easily tell what she'd found, because she was absolutely cackling.

Finally catching her breath, Benny still snorted. "You really want to suffer through the script of The Good Soldiers? We both hate it."

"...Maybe I was feeling sentimental," he finally admitted sheepishly.

She playfully nudged him with her shoulder and took a breath to finally stop laughing. "Shut up. It hasn't even happened to you yet. If ever. And isn't this supposed to be in the most secure place in the entire Collection?"

"Yes- but perhaps your description of events is still interesting regardless." Braxiatel shrugged.

Bernice raised an eyebrow and picked up what he was putting down. "You don't want me to read it at all, do you?"

"It's hardly worth the time. And as we're both holding hot drinks that could spill on the manuscript, preferably not. You meeting me is still something I look forward to, in a way," he stated. He hoped to get to be that Brax one day- even if the day would most likely be exceptionally sorrowful. "But... I wanted you to read this one, actually." He pulled another book from inside his jacket- something remarkably square and coffee-table sized that decided to fit.

Benny took an inquisitive peek at it, and her eyes widened. Emblazoned on the cover, with a picture that seemed to vaguely represent the time vortex focused on an ornate frame split down the middle, holding both a mirror and half a portrait of her- were the words: 'Echoes of the Dead Men,' ...by Bernice Summerfield, naturally.

It was a fresh off the shelf copy too, the pulp and ink in the paper giving off that new smell. She poked at it, just a touch to be sure it was solid and not some joke. She glanced between him and the cover, him and the cover, over and over, before finally speaking.

"Irving... is that my next book?"

Brax smirked. "I do believe it is."

"I finished the manuscript literally last week!" Benny shook her head, then placed her mug on the table specifically just to cross her arms.

But he played innocent. "Oh, you did, did you?"

She showed disdain for him showing this off early. Not a hint of appreciativeness. Then she turned around and there was a mischievous glint in her eye.

"...Can I take a look?"

He knew far too well how to tempt her.

"Get an idea of what the editors make you change this time? Oh alright, why not," he joked.

Both leaning on each other and holding their mugs, they rested the large book on their laps to hold it open together, and Benny began reciting the text slowly, Braxiatel appreciating her voice.

"Foreward. I never expected to return to the Braxiatel Collection. I didn't even expect it to still exist. Or- it didn't. But then it did. I have an interesting relationship with time, and frankly, I don't have a clue where I'm actually meant to be. Other than that, where I'm from, we... accidentally erased it from history. But building it again? How could I refuse?

Well, I could. But had my reasons not to decline.

But not linearly. Oh, that would be too easy. So that's where the finalized title of this book comes from. 'Echoes of the Dead Men.' ...And it's the actual long-awaited sequel to my popular release from several largely unrelated books and goddess knows how many years ago, 'Down Among the Dead Men.'

This is still an archaeology textbook too, of course. Though the archaeology in question isn't always more than fifteen years old, and it features what the craft is like in alternate universes, how it can be used to affect modern politics, digging in a warzone, powers beyond mortal comprehension and what not to release, societies that just don't appreciate a good myth, and historical erasure/revisionism.

Oh, and what to do when, inevitably, some of your deities turn out to be real. Sorry for using your name in vain, Goddess. Well, not really. It's gotten me through some tough times, and that's rather your point.

All about getting your hands dirty, for the archaeologist of today, this is..."

Benny kept droning on, sometimes taking a gulp of her cocoa, turning the page, or pecking Brax on the cheek. Relaxing into each other, their three hearts beat together in a slow rhythm.

Of course, he'd read this already. Once. That is, used his talents to skim it in about thirty seconds. It was a solid read, but really, he'd been waiting to hear it from her own mouth, now that he had the chance to. Eventually, he interrupted her.

"They finally let you be weird, didn't they? Not a lot of surface logic in this one."

Bernice sighed. "Oh, they just probably think I've totally lost it and are going to frame it as chronicling my slow descent into madness."

Braxiatel smirked. "Oh, possibly. Though there being multiple Bernice Summerfields-"

"-Is probably gonna be chalked up to a cloning incident. Again," she grunted back. After all, if the president of Earth, or pleasure drones, or any number of other lookalikes weren't a stretch- two Bennys both claiming to be the real one wasn't either. But Professor Bernice Summerfield was still doing her work, if not extra, and for her contractors that was enough.

He cocked his head and rolled his eyes playfully. "Ah, yes. That is a... boring way to explain it- though it just means they simply can't see the bigger picture."

Benny crossed her arms. "You don't need to call other people stupid to say what I do is too damn complicated for just about anybody to get. I know it is, it makes my own crukking head spin."

"It's not too complicated, it's intriguing ."

"Flatterer."

"Guilty as charged." Brax winked. Well, he tried. That didn't really work, creating an effect that sent Bernice reeling, it just looked uncanny. ...He wasn't going to try that again.

"You get it because- well. You've seen a lot."

While true, there was far more to it. "I've seen a lot through other people. Including you. My own view of the details is still painfully limited for someone who's lived this long- anyone who actually got up and moved out of the house, at any rate. It's the practical experience again. I need someone with it to have the whole picture." He leaned down and kissed her appreciatively, and her head rested on his shoulder in response to it.

"That's exactly what you said when you tried to recruit me to rewrite history. But I digress. ...So nipping out and picking this up before it even gets to the publisher?" She teased.

"Simply broadening my horizons," he shrugged.

"I knew you'd say that," Benny laughed.

"Don't tell me that I'm getting predictable."

"Like that would ever happen."

"Anyway- I thought I might have a look. You were remarkably good at keeping the current draft secretive."

"I was? Good." She flipped through the pages, checking to see if she could catch any changes. Fortunately, they seemed few and far between. Much more authentic so far.

Benny was getting bored, but this was a nice place to be regardless. And while tired of staring at these words, over and over, having pieced what seemed like dozens of previous attempts at a manuscript together for over a year, it was still gratifying to see them finished, bound, and polished to a gleam. This could've always been a data crystal, or an e-book, or a stack of floppy screens. But there was something better about paper and ink here. Probably because a good amount of her memory for this had been jogged by her diary.

"I don't know why you want me to read this though, Brax."

"I like your voice. And your commentary."

"Alright, but next time, you're reading. It's mutual. Your voice is..." she turned away and started up at the ceiling.

But Braxiatel didn't catch that. "What sort of thing would you want me to do?"

Benny sat there thinking for a bit, but came up with the perfect thing. "Hmm... one of your theatre lectures?"

Irving nodded. "That's reasonable enough. Is it because I'm typically dramatically holding a skull or a sword, being dashing?" If it was because he looked suave, that was something he'd gladly deliver.

Bernice stuttered and fidgeted. "Erm- not exactly. It's because- umm... well. There were some lonely nights, and those had the best recordings of you by yourself..." she trailed off.

But he didn't get it.

"...What do you mean?"

She got right up to his ear and whispered in it. His face turned beet red, a few beads of sweat appearing.

"Oh." His expression shifted from embarrassment to mild curiosity. It sounded bizarre. "...Only a tie? Really?" But again, Irving froze for a minute, taking out a handkerchief to wipe his face before cooling down again and his complexion turning back to normal.

"-Alright, I could do that, yes."

Benny shook her head and put a hand to her face. That was ridiculous. "No, no- that wasn't a request. You don't have to do that part. Just read it out loud, please- going all-in is really a bit overboard. It'll be perfectly normal."

"Erm- yes. Good, good. Sorry. Just a bit of a... well. That's a rather unconventional way to enjoy them, isn't it?" He cleared his throat, trying not to think about it too hard or imagine it too vividly.

"They're very informative!"

"Apparently."

Benny smirked. "Your desk would like to have a nice, long word with you about its intended purpose," she snarked, elbowing him in the side.

"Well..." He really didn't have a witty retort for that one.

But regardless, it was calming to know that she'd cheered up, with just a little time. And that embarrassment passed quickly, the mood generally merry and playful. Bernice was in his sights, which was enough for now. Moving back to Echoes of the Dead Men, Brax inspected it, implying that they were just reaching a good part and he wanted to get back to it.

She took the hint, finally finished her cocoa and started reading again.

"Chapter two..."