Disclaimer: I do not own anyone who you might recognize. Mickey and Elizabeth are owned by Lindsay. Owen is owned by me.

A/N: Lindsay rules for thinking this story up and then making me muddle through it. Good call by you. We're at the end of the line, though. Last Chapter is below.

xoxoxo

At the end of the evening, Owen walked Mickey and Elizabeth home. The moon-washed streets offered a silent invitation and Mickey tucked a hand into his crooked arm. He carried a now-sleeping E and Mickey herself felt sleepy and warm and oddly safe. What was it about this man that made her feel so at-ease with the world? She could not have said.

Upstairs, in the apartment above the bakery, Mickey led Owen to E's room and he gently nestled her under the blankets, like a baby bird returned to the nest. When he stood back, Mickey leaned over her daughter and removed her fancy dress, tights and shoes, letting her sleep in her underpants and undershirt. When she was done, she turned off the light, took Owen by the hand and closed the door behind them.

As Mickey led him through the hall and toward their small living room she felt her heart tap dancing frantically behind her ribs. She'd left a single lamp burning and it offered a pale pool of soft yellow light. He allowed her to bring him to stand with her in the middle of the small room and they faced each other, nervously aware of their relative aloneness.

Mickey shivered and Owen took this to mean that she was cold so he dropped her hand from his and began rubbing her arms from wrist to shoulder, stopping just short of the blue capped sleeves. Mickey's eyes went wide and her entire body seemed to quake from the inside out from this movement of hands on skin.

"You okay?" he asked, wondering if she might be getting sick.

She nodded, mutely searching his features. His skin had lost its summer tan but it wasn't as pale as hers. And his eyes were the same: deep gray, like the color of storm clouds only much safer. Almost like a sanctuary.

Owen was looking at her, too, now, his fingers moving slower up and down her smooth arms. She took a step forward and lifted a hand to his cheek, as Elizabeth had done hours earlier. She seemed unconscious of the movement, as if he were nothing more than a piecrust that she was testing for…what? He didn't know enough about piecrusts to know what you might test them for. He held his breath, though, and stopped his hands just above each of her elbows, and waited for what would happen next.

"Thank you for being so sweet to E," she whispered, her forehead creased with concentration.

"My pleasure," he said softly, matching her tone of voice and falling into those deep brown eyes of hers. His breathing seemed to speed up suddenly and without asking them to, his hands slipped under her arms and snaked around to her back where he held them there. Mickey brought up her other hand to his shoulder and tilted her head to one side as if trying to figure something out.

Their eyes like fingertips moved over each other's faces as if they were trying to memorize this moment, right now. Mickey's visage was an open mass of fear, want, curiosity and pain. She'd been hurt terribly before and she was terrified of being hurt again, but she knew this man well and she wanted him and she wondered what it would be like to give herself to him.

For his part, Owen could only see her apprehension and he involuntarily tightened his hold on her. "You know I would never hurt you, right? Not for anything."

Mickey thought about how hurt she'd been when he'd dated Rory and realized he meant that he'd never knowingly hurt her. "I know," she agreed softly, shifting her eyes away from him.

He leaned down to capture her gaze once again and said, "I mean it." Mickey just stared at him, unsure of herself at this range. He was closer to her than he'd ever been before. Both of her hands were at his shoulders now and he took the opportunity to lean down even further. She looked up at him, not completely sure of what he was doing. When his mouth touched hers, her eyes widened fractionally and then fluttered closed.

Gently, with the kind of slowness that made her suddenly want to scream at him to speed up, he explored the delicate skin of her lips: brushing against them with his, nibbling at one or the other, tasting her until she heard someone make a soft, mewling noise, the kind that started in the back of your throat when you were hurt or happy and traveled out of your mouth without your permission. She was startled to hear it again and that's when she knew that it was she making this noise, encouraging Owen, for encourage him it did. Her right hand traveled up to the back of his neck when she felt his tongue on her lips and her knees almost gave way when she opened her mouth and let him inside.

After a second of adjusting to these new sensations, Mickey felt herself become an active participant as opposed to just the person he was kissing. She let him draw her out and kissed him back and found that she was sort of good at it. She wasn't the only one making the soft, intermittent noises now and she found herself awestruck and delighted that she was the cause of the low sighs coming from him.

Owen broke the kiss suddenly, not wanting to offer her too much too fast. As they stood in the tiny living room, breathing fast and staring at each other, Mickey slipped her hands from his body and took a step back, trying to breathe deeply.

"Wow," she finally said, wanting to break the silence.

"Yeah," he agreed.

She paused, at a loss for words and unsure about why he had ended the kiss. Mickey crossed her arms over her chest and looked down. Why didn't he say anything? Did he think she did this often? How on earth could she tell him that he was special to her? Would he even understand?

Owen cleared his throat and her eyes flew back to his. "I should probably go," he told her, his tone suggesting it was the last thing he wanted to do.

Mickey looked at her feet again and nodded. She felt him move close to her, though, closing the distance with one step and she looked up in time to find his face close to hers again. Carefully, he bent down and let his lips rest gently at the corner of her mouth in a chaste goodbye kiss, before he pulled quickly away and said, "I'd like to see you again."

"See me?" she asked stupidly.

"See you," he nodded. "Take you out. On a date, maybe."

Mickey smiled and suddenly felt like the whole world was on her side again. "Oh! Okay. I'd like that." He hadn't stepped all the way back and like a child drunk on happiness she leaned up and pressed against him, thrilling to the rush of initiating this Contact. Her arms had uncrossed and she was holding the lapels of his jacket in her fists, lost in a world of sensations, letting her mouth enjoy itself.

Forgetting himself for a moment, Owen gave in briefly and relished the way her taut body pressed against his. She was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to him. "I really should be going now," he finally said after pulling back again.

"All right," Mickey agreed, knowing it was for the best, and followed him to the door.

"I'll call you," he promised before leaving her with a jaunty wave and his signature, lopsided smile.

Mickey closed the door behind him and leaned against it, sighing. The smile playing at her lips suddenly split open and she gave a soft laugh. He'd call her. She crossed the room to the three front windows and looked down at the street. She could see him walking to his car.

"Mommy?" called a soft voice from behind her.

Mickey turned and found Elizabeth in the doorway of the hall, rubbing her eyes, awake but still sleepy. She pulled a footstool over to the window and sat down on it, opening her arms for her baby.

E clambered up into her lap and gazed out the window, too, watching Owen start his car and drive away. Mickey squeezed the little body tight and E turned her face up to hers and said, "We make a good family."

"That we do," Mickey agreed, unable to keep herself from smiling again.

End