It's been months! Sorry:( When it doesn't come, it doesn't come. But it's finally here! Also read "Photographs on the Mantel," that one is feeling very lonely:( Man, what's with all the sad faces? Smile! :):):):):)

there were nights when the wind was so cold that my body froze in bed if i just listened to it right outside the window there were days when the sun was so cruel that all tears turned to dust and i just knew my eyes were drying up forever i banished every memory you and i had ever made but if i kiss you like this and if you whisper like that it was lost long ago but it's all coming back to me there were hours that just went on for days when alone at last we'd count up all the chances that were lost to us forever

--"it's all coming back to me" celine dion

I have decided that I like being married. I like imagining what we're going to be like in ten years, twenty, fifty, where we'll be living and how many grandchildren we'll have. I like how the word "husband" rolls off my tongue as if I've been saying it for years. I like how safe I feel simply knowing he'll always be beside me at night, holding me. I like the way he kisses me when there's no one else around. I like the way he places his hand on the small of my back and guides me through doorways. I like belonging to someone.

I also like how when he looks into my eyes, everything seems to fall away and I know that we are the only two people in the world for just a precious moment. He's looking at me that way right now, and I couldn't look away for the life of me. Those blue eyes were so vivid in my memory; they haunted my dreams for so many years, and now that they're here in front of me I can see that they haven't changed.

I know he's different in other ways. We're not the same people we were eight years ago, but somehow the only thing that matters is that we never stopped loving each other. I don't think he's as quick to laugh now; he's quieter. I can't begin to know the things he went through while I was not with him, and I know that whatever life he's lived these past years has forced him to grow up somehow.

"What are you thinking about?" Rick asks, and I'm broken from my spell. He reaches over and tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear, and his hand lingers on my jaw for just a moment before falling back to its resting place on my pillow. I take his hand and lace my fingers through his before answering.

"I was thinking about you," I say, "what else?"

He smiles that perfect smile of his. "Of course you were."

"All right, I'll tell you the truth. I was just wondering how Alex and Jonathan were getting by, and thinking that they'll probably burn the house down the moment they get back to London."

"Yeah, probably." He pulls his hand away and proceeds to kiss each of my fingertips, all the while holding my gaze. "Alex will keep his uncle in line."

"I hope so." We fall into silence again, another in a string of perfect moments. I can feel his heart beating, timed to match my own. It amazes me how easily we slipped into our roles as spouses, friends, lovers. It's as if we'd never been away from each other. "Do you remember the last time we were on a boat together?"

"I believe there were guns and fire and scary men with knives. Much less romantic."

"As I recall, the last time we were on a boat you threw me overboard."

"I was saving your life!"

"So then, if I fell overboard on this boat," I say, narrowing my eyes, "would you save me?"

"Hmm." He contemplates this for far too long, grimacing. "The water must be awfully cold..."

He heads off my half-hearted protest by kissing me, a tactic which I admittedly don't mind. "But I'd follow you anywhere," he murmurs.

"What time is it, anyway?"

"Midnight," says Rick, picking up the bedside clock. "We've officially been married for half a day."

"Goodness, twelve whole hours. Sick of me yet?"

He grins. "Ask me in twelve years, maybe." I have a mind to punch him for that one, but I'm distracted when I notice that the sparkling blue of his irises matches the blue of the sheets. His skin is impossibly, perfectly tan, marred only by the angry red of a long, jagged scar across his chest. I hadn't realized how bad it was at the time. Just like him, not to mention whatever pain he was in. My fingers trace down his chest to his stomach, and the second scar. It doesn't look as bad, but we both know the consequence of that injury was far more acute than the scimitar wound. I drag my eyes from these reminders of the past and ask him, finally. "Why didn't you tell me how bad it was?"

"Wasn't important."

"You told me it was just a scratch."

"I didn't want to worry you."

"But you could have died, and I wouldn't have known a thing!"

"I didn't think you cared," he says softly, then seems to regret it. "Sorry. Didn't mean that. I shouldn't have..."

I can feel tears stinging my eyes, not for anything Rick has said, but for the time we've lost that we can never get back. Rick cradles my face in his hands, placing feather-light kisses on my lips. "Don't cry, baby. Please, don't cry." He teasingly kisses both my eyelids, drawing an involuntary giggle on my part and immediately drying my tears. I open my eyes to see his have lost their playfulness. It's almost terrifying how much like bliss it is to be caught in this quiet flash in the eye of a storm. I want to preserve the moment, and yet I just may go crazy in the stillness. A little thrill shoots all the way down to my toes as his mouth at last finds mine, a kiss so intense that I could swear my entire body has been consumed.

Evelyn is asleep, and I hate to wake her, but our ship has docked and we have a train to catch. She sleeps like a brick, and if I let her she might stay unconscious 'til lunch. "Evy, wake up," I say loudly, but she just rolls over and covers her head with a pillow. "Evelyn, wake up," I try again. "Evelyn? Hello? We have to get going. Train leaves in an hour. Evy? We're in America. Docks? Land? Hello?"

As soon as I mention the word "land" she comes instantly, fully awake, stretching catlike across the bed with an expression of bliss on her face. "Not a moment too soon," she says, flinging away the covers. "I may just have had to throw myself overboard if I'd spent another day on this blasted ship."

"We can leave as soon as you're ready."

She smiles and leans over me, kisses me languidly. "Morning," she breathes, and skips away to the bathroom. "Ah, land," I hear her say. "Never was there a more beautiful word."

I can hear her faint humming from the bathroom. I really must disagree with her on that last point, however. I'm not all that fond of the sea, either, and nine days is certainly more than enough time to spend out here, but the more beautiful word is undoubtedly "Evelyn." I have been married to Evelyn for nine days, and the list of things I love about her would already fill an encyclopedia. She's effortlessly brilliant, she moves with this perfect grace, she's constantly aware of everyone around her. She seems to know what I'm going to say before I say it. She's one of those women who's striking from afar, absolutely, but with every glimpse of her, every word that comes from her mouth, every breath, she seems to grow even more beautiful. She seemed so naive when I met her, but through some combination of brains and sheer guts she's able to triumph over anything or anybody you put her in front of. This will be my undoing, I'm sure, but I can't bring myself to care. Simply being in her presence gives me the willpower of a bug. Evelyn has somehow managed to wrap me around her little finger, and she's done it all with that innocent smile on her face.

Evelyn lugs a heavy suitcase out from the bathroom and it tumbles to the ground. "Rick, would you carry this for me?"

"Absolutely, darling." As I pick up the bags I hear a snicker emanate from Evelyn's general direction. "Something funny?"

"No, no, not at all..." She laughs again, though I can tell she's trying to cover her mouth. "...'darling.'"

"What?"

"It's just that...I don't know," she says, shrugging her shoulders. "You've never called me 'darling' before. It sounds funny. Coming from you. The big tough adventurer spouting silly love poetry."

"I would hope any silly love poetry I would spout would be more eloquent than a simple 'darling.'"

She has that mischievous look in her eye now. Not good. "Let's hear it, then."

"What?"

"I want to hear some silly love poetry. Go on."

I take a moment to think, though my mind has suddenly gone completely blank. I set down the suitcases and walk toward her deliberately, pretending to form an answer, but really plotting to grab her and kiss her senseless. I think that will work just as well.

"Hmm?" she says when I reach her, arching her eyebrows like she does. "I'm waiting, Mr. O'Connell."

My plan is suddenly stopped cold. Words come of their own accord. "Your eyes," I say, though I have no idea where it's coming from. They spill from my mouth without a corresponding thought in my head. "I've never seen eyes so deep. I look into them and I feel like I could drown, they're so full of life."

She blinks, seeming a bit shocked. "Well, it's not in iambic pentameter, but it'll do."

"You know what else I love about you?"

"What?"

"Your lips. Very kissable."

"Are they?"

Words no longer suffice where a kiss would work a thousand wonders, so I pick up with my 'kiss her senseless' strategy.

"Rick?" she mumbles after a minute.

"Hmm?"

"Ditto."

~*~*~*~*~