[If you would like to read the NC-17 version, you can do so at TIMA ]
***
Music: Shame on Me by Sister Hazel and Surrendering by Alanis Morissette
There was very little light in the room, since the heavy curtains were closed as a precaution against any potential threat from outside. Though unlikely, it was possible that someone in one of the other tall buildings could look within, see them and then act in a way that would surely turn out to be painful for those trying to remain unnoticed in the small downtown apartment. The door was shut, and the thick rug allowed only minimal light to seep in underneath, which did nothing to illuminate the dark shapes in the room. Not that it really mattered; he'd spent large portions of his life sneaking about darkened rooms for his eyes to adjust quickly, which let him to see more than enough to move about with an easy grace and avoid stumbling over near-invisible objects in the blackness.
The few sounds came from the soft, slow breathing of the person on the bed and the muffled voices of those in the main area of the apartment. Hobbes was going over the pieces of gear that had been brought for use sometime tomorrow. The timetable had yet to be set and he wanted to be able to cover any and every contingency. If it wasn't for the fact his partner had assured Darien that she'd been up just a few minutes before his arrival, he would have been certain she was sound asleep with no hope of waking her until morning. Oh, not that she might wake on her own out of thirst, pain or a half dozen other reasons, but if she were truly asleep then he would not disturb her slumber. But since she had been fully conscious just moments before, he had the feeling this... this faux unconsciousness was nothing more than a ploy, a ruse to try and avoid this conversation that he wanted... needed to have with her.
"'Chele..." It was no more than a breath, a whisper on the air that barely even created a ripple in the heavy silence that enveloped the room like a wet blanket draped over one's face, pressing against one's nose and mouth and making it difficult to breathe.
She didn't move, didn't acknowledge his caressing of her name with his far from steady voice. He tried again, wondering if perhaps he'd been wrong and that she might actually have fallen back to sleep so quickly, her injury demanding blessed unconsciousness in order to better recover. "Truth, I ... we need to talk."
Again there was no response, just the gentle rise and fall of her ribs that he could make out through the gloom. Second, third and even fourth thoughts chased themselves through his mind, but his resolve to do this was still there. Her words, spoken a lifetime ago, echoed in his head (his internal Hobbes snarking about all the empty space between his ears and the potential use of a 'for rent' sign), as they had ever since he picked up that bit of jewelry. It really hit him then that he was going to do this, that there was no going back, much like back when they had been teens and had first taken their relationship into the realm of intimate. "No more second thoughts," he whispered aloud.
He moved to the end of the bed and stood there looking down at her, her skin pale against the gloom darkened appearance of her hair; it shocked him how much it looked like drying blood in the dim light. For an instant, he flashed back on that dream of the lake, of her vanishing under the icy cold waters and the spreading blood across the surface. He shook his head to clear away the images; he'd not had that dream the last two nights, but of course he'd been sleeping with her on both occasions. Perhaps it had been nothing more that, a vague premonition of her being shot, as the thick foreboding fear it had previously inspired was now mostly gone. Mostly.
"Michele, please," he practically begged, his shoulders slumped and head tipped down to stare forlornly at the neatly tucked covers.
The sound of her breathing stilled for a long instant, to be followed by a deep sigh. "What, Darien?"
'Chele sounded resigned, as if she had known this was coming and had tried to avoid it, to give him an easy out by feigning sleep. But, since he plainly had no intention of taking that out, she was now responding to his increasingly desperate request for attention. "I just want to talk for a minute."
She snorted. "Doubt it'll be just a minute, bub."
"Well, time being relative and all that..." he tossed out, hoping to turn her borderline irritation to something lighter, something that would make this just a bit easier for both of them.
"Oh, you, quoting Einstein at me." She managed a snicker, and rolled slightly to look up at him, her eyes catching the little ambient light in the room and appearing to glow, but when she spoke her voice was serious. "Do we have to do this now?"
Darien shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets to hide his discomfort. "Since you're supposed to be leaving tomorrow, I'd say 'now' is about the only chance we have."
If she caught his intentional suggestion that she might not be leaving she chose to ignore it, and slowly levered herself into a sitting position at the head of the bed. "All right," she agreed, and waved a hand at the bedside lamp causing the bulb to flicker to life and add a golden hue to the room.
"Cool trick. The state could've used you last year during those black outs," Darien commented straight-faced.
'Chele tossed one of the pillows at him, which he caught deftly with his left hand, since his right was still in his pocket, wrapped tightly about the small box within. "Sit," she suggested. "I don't feel like craning my head up to look at you right now."
He tossed the pillow back to her, and she set it across her legs as he sat on the end of the bed, leaving several feet of space between them. Looking at her, right here, right now, his resolve of earlier crumbled and he found himself releasing the box in favor of his key ring. He pulled it from his pocket and began to thumb through the keys: apartment, car, main door of the Harding building, a couple of post office boxes, keys for both 'Chele's house and apartment here in town and ... a ring. He heard her startled gasp and met her eyes.
"You kept it. All these years." She appeared to be completely flabbergasted.
"My good luck charm," he explained. "'A ma vie de coer entier.' You have my whole heart..."
"... for my whole life," she finished. "So you learned some French along the way."
"Enough. I just... it never dawned on me that you meant this. That you could..." he trailed off, unsure how to put what he wanted to say into words.
"That I could what? Feel something beyond friendship for you?" She shook her head. "I always knew you didn't feel the same way about me and accepted it."
"Didn't feel the same? Michele..." He scooted across the bed to sit next to her and reached out to take one of her hands into his own. "You could have told me," he stated, wishing they'd had this discussion years ago, instead of waiting until their lives were so tangled up in other things that it might be too late.
Her sudden laughter was raw and tinged with bitterness. "Tell you? D, I've told you hundreds of times over the years and you... you would just let it drift right past, no impact, no deep meaning, nothing. That's how I know you don't feel the same way." When he tried to protest, she stopped him with a sharp look. "Yes, Darien, I know you love me, but it's far more casual, far more... like the love you feel for Bobby. Only with the occasional sexual romp."
She sounded almost cold to Darien, and it made him want to shiver in the warm room. "'Chele, I'm not sure I understand."
"Of course not, you've spent so much time trying to fall in love that you can't see that it's no different than simply loving someone." Her hands balled into fists, Darien guessed that she felt she was not explaining this in a way he could understand, and the resulting emotional outburst caused the light to flicker.
Darien was struck by an idea then. "Michele, just show me."
"Show you?" The light ceased its erratic change of brightness, and her posture relaxed a bit. "What do you mean?"
"You're an empath, right? Show me," he pleaded, wanting to have the footing necessary to make the right choices, and to do that he had to know her perspective on this... on their relationship. "You can do that with the inhibitor, can't you?"
She nodded, still watching him as if in shock. "Are you sure about this? You might... regret knowing and I won't be able to take it back."
"I think it's time I knew, don't you, Truth?" He shifted closer to her and reached out to caress her cheek. Her eyes drifting shut as she leaned into his hand told him all he needed, and he dipped his head to place a lingering kiss upon her lips. He broke away to rest his forehead against hers, one of her hands coming up to curve about his neck as she let out a ragged sigh.
"All right. Try to relax, I don't want to give you more of a headache than necessary," she told him as she began to regulate her own breathing, her body going boneless in his hold.
He followed her lead, clearing his mind out like he did when doing some of his biofeedback exercises. He was still unprepared for her intrusion; the sudden burst of raw emotion across his senses left him reeling with a sudden attack of vertigo. But just as swiftly there was support, and the sensation of falling stopped, to be replaced by a gentle rocking motion, as if he were riding upon a feather drifting on the breeze. There was such joy; such a sense of wonder and happiness that he found himself feeling buoyed up higher than he thought possible. Other emotions flitted past, passion, desire, hurt, jealousy, anger... you name it and it was there, but at the core was this endless feeling of peace. A peace that he knew was inspired by his presence in her life. Somehow, someway she loved him in every sense of the word: as a friend, partner-in-crime or fun, lover, any or all without reservation or demands. It was almost beyond his comprehension even when laid out in detail before him.
She broke the contact then, pulling back out of his mind and leaving him feeling lost for an instant, until he realized that he could still feel her; her presence, her living warmth sitting before him on the bed, his hand still cupping her face. It still took him a couple minutes to bring himself back, to stop savoring those wild emotions she had bestowed upon him, and open his eyes to look at her as she sat there with her head tipped down, her loose hair creating a curtain about her face.
"How long, 'Chele?" he asked as he found his voice.
She blushed bright red; he could feel the heat of her cheek against his palm, and tilted her head up to actually see her. "Since I was 14," she answered at a whisper.
"Fourteen?" he repeated, certain he sounded as stunned as he felt. "But we were just kids."
Michele shrugged, the blush slowly leaving her cheeks. "Didn't seem to make any difference to me. I just..." She shrugged again, not able to explain this time.
Darien made sure explanations were unnecessary. "Marry me."
She didn't even pretend to look surprised by his question. "Darien, you're still getting over Casey and losing Adam. You don't really want this, you just want..."
"You," he insisted. "Yeah, I got burned by Casey... twice. Yeah, I miss Adam, so bad I can't believe how much it hurts, but they have nothing to do with you."
She closed her eyes and shook her head, not listening to his words.
"Don't do that. Don't shut me out." When she did as he asked, he continued, "And don't use your not wanting to have kids as an excuse, either. Thanks to the gland I... I won't be having my own any time in the near future. Another wonderful side effect."
Though he half expected an argument or condolences on his inability to father a child, she surprised him.
"Darien, I never said I didn't want children." The heat returned to her cheeks and she had to look away.
"Huh?" was his intelligent response. "But I thought there was a high risk of deformity or something like that."
"At one time, that was something I was worried about, but after breeding generations of 'improved' rats and running hundreds of simulations, I learned that the risk is nearly non-existent." The comparatively dry scientific turn helped her regain her composure, and she was once again able to meet his eyes.
"So then... what? Why not have kids?" he asked her, feeling confused.
"Aside from not having anyone to... reproduce with?" That caused a tiny embarrassed smile to cross her lips. "There is a near 100 percent chance I'll pass my abilities onto any child I have in some form. Up to and including the Quicksilver. I don't know that I could help them, hell, protect them from bastards like Jess and his ilk. A life hiding and on the run is not one I'd wish on an adult much less an innocent child."
Her logic, as always, was flawless... from her perspective. He slowly worked his way through all of what she had said. She wanted kids, but not alone. Said children could very well end up with all her talents, to be just as wondrous and special as she was, and undoubtedly as intelligent and beautiful as well. "You wouldn't have to do it alone. I can't have been the only one who's asked you to get married." Her slight paling told him that assumption was wrong. "'Chele..."
"Darien, how could I get close enough to anyone for that to happen? How do I explain to someone that I can ... do the things I do? The few people I have gotten close to in the last few years and have experienced my abilities have been terrified. Of me." She laughed bitterly, tears coming to her eyes. "Do you have any idea how that feels? One tiny slip, a shared dream, a blown light bulb and the person you care about backs away in fright."
"Yeah, I do know how that feels." He pulled her into his arms and just held her. "I've never run, 'Chele, and you won't chase me away."
She shuddered in his hold. "Why the hell do you think I love you so damn much?" she all but shouted, only her face pressed against his chest muffling the words enough to not attract the attention of those outside the bedroom.
"Then marry me," he argued.
"I can't," she stated tonelessly.
"You can't or won't?" He didn't want this to turn into a fight. A stupid, idiotic fight over how much they loved each other. "Michele, you remember our first time?"
His change of tack must have thrown her and she pulled away. "Of course."
"Back then your logic for us not maintaining a relationship was that I might find the girl of my dreams at college. Remember?" He cupped her cheeks with both hands and wiped away the tears that had overflowed with his thumbs. "You were the girl of my dreams back then and you still are today. I just didn't know how to tell you, didn't think you would listen or believe me."
"Darien," her voice broke on his name, "I'm leaving tomorrow and you ... now..." She seemed to be flustered, no longer sure of herself, and he found it endearing. He'd actually managed to throw her for once.
"So don't leave. Stay here, with me. We'll work it out somehow. Keep you hidden for the time being. You'll be safe..." Darien stopped when she shook her head, real regret on her features.
"Aside from the fact that Jess'll probably be watching you for months, there's other issues I have to deal with." The look of stubbornness he purposely set on his face plainly said he wasn't going to buy half-truths and partial answers. "I've built up a tolerance to the inhibitor."
Darien didn't let that phase him; it could be dealt with. Between her and Claire they could fix the problem, find a substitute, something. The two of them had more brains than most of the West Coast combined. "All the more reason. I can make some calls. Get a Justice of the Peace here and we can be married in a couple of hours." He couldn't hide the hint of excitement he felt, part of him certain she would say yes this time. "We'll get you access to a lab, computers, whatever you need and you'll fix it."
"Darien, don't you think I've tried? What used to work for two weeks now lasts three or four days at most. I'm swiftly running out of time."
He felt his heart sink into his stomach at her words. He'd been through this, felt the fear crawling through his body until he very nearly couldn't take it any more, and in the end he'd received his much prayed for miracle. "'Chele..."
"No, Darien, there is no quick fix like there was for you. The way a neural inhibitor works there is no variance, no tweaking, and no adjustments that can be made. It is what it is, no more, no less." Her hands came up to scrub at her face. "I have one choice. Stop using the inhibitor and gain some sort of control without it. I can't do that here. There are too many people, too many things," she explained, obviously wanting him to understand, and, this time, he did.
She took pity on him then, sitting silent and brooding over her words. "If you mean this, if you really want to marry me..." She wrapped her far smaller hands about his. "Ask me again in five years," She gave him a shy smile. "I promise I'll answer you."
"Five years?" Darien knew he sounded plaintive, but couldn't stop it. "But I'll be old," he complained.
"And I'll be older. So what?"
"But I... five years apart, I don't want that," Darien told her softly.
"Apart? Do I look like an idiot to you? I fully intend to flit in and out of your life just like always. Now that I know all about the Agency and the gland there's nothing that'll keep me away," she said earnestly. "Provided you want me here, that is."
"Want you? Forever and always." He felt his heart pound in his chest when she sucked in a breath at his words. For once he was dead serious, and she could tell. "I love you, 'Chele, and while it might not be the same, it's still real. I can wait five years to get married, but only because I'm pretty damn sure I've already got you for life."
"Well, duh. Haven't I been saying that for years?" She rolled her eyes and tapped him on the forehead. "Took long enough for it to sink in." Her look softened. "A ma vie de coer entier."
Darien felt his heart begin to pound at triple the speed, knowing that phrase had somehow become her way of telling him I love you, and it affected him in ways just saying the words never had. All these years, why had he never seen the truth? Why had he never listened and actually heard what she was stating? She bared her soul to him every time she uttered the words. It was no wonder she'd never seriously considered his marriage proposals, given the way he'd virtually ignored her proclamations of her feelings. He could feel the bulge of the ring box in his pocket and realized he'd not shown it to her because he still didn't feel worthy of her, thought she could and should look elsewhere, to find someone who wouldn't take about 20 years too long to realize the truth.
Michele broke him out of his reverie. "Umm, is there a problem here?" She had one eyebrow raised and a hint of a smile gracing her lips.
"What?" Darien looked down at himself and noticed the sudden lack of various portions of his torso and appendages. "Crap," he mumbled, far too irritated to be embarrassed.
"'Crap?' I take it this is unintentional then?" Somehow she succeeded in sounding curious and not amused.
"Yeah, that'd be one way to put it," he groused. "Now you know why I haven't been regaling you with my extensive encounters with the opposite sex for the last few years." He glared at his arm, which still refused to reappear. "Why you'd think I'd been scoring like crazy is beyond me."
"Haven't looked in a mirror recently, have you?" she teased. "D, you're a healthy adult male, I would hope to god you're out tomcatting..."
Darien cut her off. "How the hell am I supposed to do that when the moment I get... interested this happens." He waved at himself and groaned in pure frustration as the Quicksilver finally flaked away. "Oh, and let's not forget the fact that the 'Fish is a bit of a stickler about the whole 'top secret' thing, y'know."
'Chele just sat there quietly, watching him, and he guessed that she hadn't caught on to what he was trying to avoid saying directly at all costs. "Kitten, there are some situations where the gland has a mind of its own." She still just watched him, those gorgeous eyes of hers looking so innocent in the muted light of the room. He cleared his throat. "Close contact ones, for instance."
She nodded slowly, his euphemism of choice seeming to do the trick. "So, if I were to offer to say... put on a Little Mermaid costume it could..."
Darien whimpered as far more than just the gland reacted to the mental image conjured up by that suggestion. With her hair, those eyes and that slim body, she'd put that Mira Sorvino fantasy of his to shame.
"... cause a reaction," she finished, eyes widening as Darien felt the Quicksilver creep across his flesh and send his vision to grayscale.
"Damn it, 'Chele," he whined, even though he was somewhat surprised at how easily she could play him.
"Fascinating," she noted in a dry voice. "Sexual stimulation causes involuntary secretion by the gland."
Darien was taken aback by 'Chele's near perfect imitation of an emotionless Vulcan. "Hey, I don't need another Keeper there, Spock." His dismay at her suddenly eyeing him like a prize lab rat was more than enough to make his and the gland's interest in the proceedings vanish in an instant. The Quicksilver flaked away, and 'Chele put out a hand to catch some of the glitter-like residue on her palm.
"Nope, you don't," she agreed, tossing the captured flakes in the air to fall about her like snow. "I just thought you might want to be visible when I did this..." She shifted forward, the cover slipping downward along her thighs to reveal the fact that she wore little more than the pale purple pajama top, and bit him tenderly on the side of the neck.
Darien froze as her tongue moved hotly up to his jaw and back to his ear. "Michele," he got out once he remembered to breathe.
"Yes," she murmured as she paused her nibbling of his earlobe.
He set his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away. "Sweet thing, you're hurt. I really don't think this is a good idea." She didn't pout, didn't complain, did nothing but sit back a bit.
"I'd say not all of you agrees with that," she pointed out, glancing down at his right leg, which was currently absent.
"Not the point. Shit, girl, you were shot yesterday, and bleeding like crazy this morning. You may want to do this, but that don't mean you should." He shifted a hand to cup her cheek, his thumb running across her lips as he resisted the temptation to kiss them.
'Chele settled more comfortably with her legs folded beneath her. "I'm gonna let you in on a little secret." She took his hand and set it on her side where he could feel the bandage beneath her clothes. "There are a few beneficial side effects to my abilities."
Darien wanted to pull his hand away, terrified of causing her any more unnecessary pain, but held perfectly still instead. "Like what?"
"Turns out I take after my favorite comic book character to a degree," she told him with a straight face.
'Favorite comic book character?' It took Darien a couple minutes of searching his memory to have any idea what she was talking about. "Wolverine? Ain't no way you've grown adamantium claws, sweets. That's fantasy."
"Dare..." She shook her head in dismay. "You need to go to the movies more often. Logan's mutation was near instantaneous healing." When she saw the realization dawn on his features, she nodded. "Now, I'm nowhere near as good as him, but it is useful. I bled like crazy this morning cause the stitch was pulled from a well-healed wound." She let him pull his hand away, unbuttoned the lower half of the shirt and removed the bandage.
Now, he would freely admit that he was no expert in surgical scars or how they looked as they healed. The one he was most familiar with he'd never seen, since it was on the back of his head and he'd slept through the majority of its healing, but there was no way a day old bullet wound could look like that. "Damn girl. Does Claire know?"
'Chele nodded. "Yes, she wanted to run tests. I told her no. The stitches could probably come out, but we decided to leave them until after I was moved as a precaution."
Darien ran his fingers over the few stitches that showed where they had cut her open in order to remove the bullet, they'd even sewn up the pucker-like circle where it had struck her. There had only been about eight stitches originally, with a butterfly bandage replacing the ones 'Chele had yanked out earlier in the day. There was still some bruising about the area, but it had already faded to that sickly yellow green stage. At a guess, any normal person would take about a week to heal this much, which tied in with her saying the stitches could be removed, as that usually was the case after about a week to 10 days. "How fast?"
"Oh, a third to twice as fast as norm." Her eyes drifted shut as he continued his tentative probing.
"Does it hurt?" he asked as his hand settled on her hip. He tried to remain unaffected by the deep violet of the miniscule panties that she wore or how notice how the color perfectly complimented the pajama top.
"Hell yes, but that's what painkillers are for." She shifted his hand upwards until it rested on her ribs, his thumb just below the curve of her breast. "I promise you if we take it slow there'll be no danger."
"Michele..." Darien balked, even as his thumb moved without his permission to caress the underside of her breast.
"Darien, my love, it will cause me far more pain to not do this." She set a hand on his chest, directly over his heart, and was surely able to feel the rapid beat. "You asked me to show you how I felt, now I'm asking you to show me."
"Show you? I can't... oh. Oh!" Darien felt like an idiot for not understanding what she had meant initially, but then she leaned forward, her weight supported by the hand pressed firmly against him and kissed him.
His hand slipped up to cup that warm curve of flesh, making her gasp softly in response. "Say it again," he requested, wanting to hear her say how she felt, and to know exactly what she meant.
She chuckled, the sound warm and rich to his ears. "I love you, Darien Fawkes."
The words had the effect he hoped for, and evoked an incredibly strong memory of the gift she had bestowed upon him, the emotions rushing back to the surface of his mind and momentarily sweeping him away. There was also a very unexpected reaction; the Quicksilver coming so quickly that he didn't have a chance to even try to stop it. His sight faded to grayscale and 'Chele took on a golden halo.
"Well now... can I hope this is a good sign?" she asked with humor evident in her voice.
"Christ, I hope so," Darien muttered.
***
Michele finally collapsed on him, her forehead pressed into the curve of his neck, panting in a vain attempt to return air to starved lungs. Darien ran his hands up and down her back, his own breathing still quite labored, but somehow knowing she needed the physical touch to help her reconnect to herself. He blinked when the light level changed, becoming darker and rich with color as the Quicksilver dropped away, leaving them covered in sweat, their bodies noticeably overheated in the now cool room. He could feel the strained rise and fall of her chest, the fluttering of her heart, her presence still in the back of his mind. It was somewhat disconcerting, but not unpleasant, comforting in many ways to know she was right there, a mere thought away if he needed her.
"Kitten, you okay?"
Her head came up slowly, her response as much mental as verbal. "I need a favor from you."
"Anything," Darien responded without hesitation.
"You're brave," she commented, her tone oddly wistful.
"'Chele, what is it?" He could feel her pulling away, fading from his mind, and the loss, even as gentle as it was, left him feeling strangely empty.
"Don't wait for me."
"Don't... What are you talking about?" Darien got a sinking feeling in his gut, certain he'd made an error with his unequivocal statement of 'anything.'
'Chele closed her eyes and sighed softly. "I don't want you using me as an excuse to justify you sitting around your apartment and not going out to have some fun. As an excuse to not meet someone." She kissed him, her lips brushing across his as if it could ease the sting of her words. "You love life far too much to spend it sitting around waiting for it to happen."
"Right, like I don't get enough excitement on the job," he grumbled, the truth of that statement not one she could argue... or so he thought. As usual, she had an irritatingly logical comeback.
"Shit, D, all the more reason to. You need to find some normality in all this weirdness," she countered, making far too much sense for his liking. "Do you ever do anything else but work? Go to bars? Parties? Hell, steal candy from babies?"
"Me and Hobbes hang out; Claire too now and then," he answered, even though he failed to mention that personal issues that had come to light in the last few months had greatly reduced his interest in 'hanging out.' "I'll have you know that I've been taking up my larcenous ways again." He was pretty damn proud with the success of his late night escapades, and didn't have a single worry that she'd snitch to Hobbes. "Very successfully, I might add."
She quirked an eyebrow. "So what was it this time? Cash, jewels, plutonium 238?"
Darien shook his head. "Nah, files, computer disks, account books, stuff like that."
"Industrial espionage? Thought you didn't care for pulling jobs like that unless they were for a flat fee? Selling the data often don't pay well enough and blackmail is too risky. Or so you always told me." She sounded justifiably confused.
"Babe, it's proof to get those bastards off the streets." When she frowned he added, "Put 'em in jail where they can't hurt anyone ever again."
"Darien, its just more work," she observed, "off the clock is all. I mean, that's fine if it's what you want, but..." She trailed off looking disconcerted.
He drummed the fingers of one hand on her back while he tried to work out how to explain this to her. "I figured out I can't go back. Being a thief... it just don't fit no more. I tried it sweets, robbed a bank and everything and... and it wasn't any fun. This... what I do now, is."
'Chele nodded slowly, as if needing to fully absorb his words before complete understanding could be made. "All right, so long as you're happy, which brings me back to my point."
"Damn it, 'Chele, I finally figure out I want you in my life, am willing to make a commitment to you, to us, and you want me to toss it away?" He dropped his hands to the bed in total anger. Maybe things, maybe they had changed too much for this to work.
"You dork," she snapped, grabbed his wrists, forced them above his head and held them there.
"Dork? What now?" He struggled to get free, but he quickly gave it up as a useless effort; her position gave her more than enough leverage to keep him in place for the moment.
"The 'commitment' that's important to me you made a long time ago and have never walked away from." His blank look only seemed to irritate her more. "All those brains going to waste just to support that hair," she complained. "Friendship, you idiot. Anything else is just gravy."
"Hey, not nice," he grouched, but he couldn't help but see her point. If their friendship had lasted this long, it wasn't likely to fall apart ever, no matter what may happen.
"Promise me you won't wait, that you'll try and live a little, please?" she pleaded, doing her best imitation of his mournful puppy dog eyes.
"What if I meet someone else? Maybe even ask 'em to marry me?" he countered, sure it would get her to change her mind, but to no avail.
"Then I hope you'll be happy and remember to invite me to the wedding. Now, promise me." She was insistent this time.
"'Chele," he whined, taking his turn doing the whipped puppy look that always worked on Claire, Hobbes and even on rare occasions, Monroe.
"Promise me, Darien."
"You just ain't gonna let this go, are you? Even if I do promise you, what makes you think I'll keep it. You won't be here to check up on me." Her eyes narrowed and he grinned in triumph.
"Because you have always done you best to honor any promise you made to me," she stated in a cool voice. "Promise me."
He found himself growing increasingly angry, and snapped, "Fine. I promise. Satisfied?"
Fully expecting her acceptance, he almost didn't catch her quiet, "No."
"No? Why the hell not?" Darien questioned in surprise.
"Jeeze, Dare, you lie worse than I do. Please, Darien, this is important to me. I do not want to be the one holding you back or keeping you from happiness. I may be gone six months or more before we see each other again, and even then I may not be able to stay for any great length of time." She closed her eyes for a moment, her grip shifting from his wrists to his hands, the hold extremely light, as if afraid of being turned away. "Promise me."
He closed his hands about hers as it began to finally sink in that she meant this, the same way she had years ago when he was heading off to college for the first time. That she was not going to back down no matter what he might say, how he might argue, beg or plead. Another memory flashed through his mind then, of the two of them in the hammock on the day of his uncle's funeral, and him finding himself jealous because she'd said she was in love with someone. It had taken until this moment for him to realize that she'd been talking about him, and he felt like a total fool for missing so many opportunities with her over the years. Even if they hadn't gotten married, they could have moved in together, been with each other, perhaps changed a few things in their lives for the better... With a muttered curse at himself, he left the 'what ifs' alone and focused on the present, and the woman wearing the tired and frightened look who waited for his answer.
Darien knew he loved her, loved her enough to want to make that leap of faith and commit to her. The real question was, was he willing to step back, savor what they had and wait for the time to be right like she was asking of him. That was the rub: the time had never been right for them, always drifting close but never quite finding themselves in the same place at the same time. For all that he didn't like it, he knew that if it was supposed to be, right now, right at this moment, it would be. But, as she was being forced to point out, it wasn't, and, though he didn't like it, he knew could accept it.
He took a deep breath and released it raggedly, knowing he was going to acquiesce, to do his best to live up to her request, and know that as he did so he'd be making her happy. For he was just beginning to realize his happiness was what made her happy, even if it meant she was without him in her life. He would always have her friendship, her love, no matter what might come to pass, and somehow he knew that would be enough. He freed himself from her hands, grasped her about the waist and rolled both of them, mindful of her injury, until she lay beneath him.
"I promise."
She cupped his face with both hands and simply said, "Thank you."
"Anything for you," he reiterated, meaning it this time. "Tell me again."
Sensing his need to be sure of her feelings for him she kissed him lightly and proclaimed softly, "I love you."
"Cool," was his gleeful response, and he proceeded to do his best to show her that he felt exactly the same about her.
