"I feel ridiculous."

Gordon had to hide the grin as he sat on the floor next to the mat that held a flustered London agent. Penelope was letting out another shaky breath as her right foot slid back to the end of the mat. "You're doing fine." He gave her a reassuring smile after regaining control of his mouth. In truth, he was the one doing the opposite of fine. She had picked a pair of gray, capri leggings with a pink stripe running diagonally across her hip and around her inner thigh. Her pink tank top matched and it would gradually ride up with each movement, revealing her belly button. He was definitely not fine.

"I've only managed - to do ten." Her cheeks were red from exertion.

"It's only the first day." Amber eyes softened, placing his hand on hers. She gave it a squeeze before taking in a breath and pulling the foot back towards her buttock.

"At this rate," her leg slid out again, Gordon's hand hovering under the knee as it began to tremble. "How am I supposed to do my job in a wheelchair?"

Easily sensing her frustration, he flashed her a sympathetic smile, trying his best to soothe her worries, "Hey, your only job for the next month is to do these exercises. You'll be agenting with the best of them before you know it."

"I'll be able to stand in heels for hours while I try to talk executives and diplomats into peaceful agreements?" He opened his mouth to answer, but she continued, "and then give chase when the need arises? Which it does, more often than you care to know, I assume?"

Oh, wow, she was more than a little angry. Gordon had been there before, a few times, and had to watch his brothers pilot his 'bird. It sucked. He also knew, "Yes, you will. I know you, Penelope. You're strong and stubborn. When you set your mind to something, nothing's gonna get in your way. If you want to stand for hours and smile through all the obnoxious bantering of idiots in power or chase bad guys," he held back a wave of anxiety attached to that statement, "then you will. You're Lady Penelope Creighton-ward, most amazing woman I know."

That seemed to have done the trick as the despair melted away, replaced by the slightest pink hue over her cheeks. A smile, "You're right." She held up her good arm, a sign she wanted to sit up and he obliged, his other hand resting on her back for support. To his surprise, her fingers wrapped into his shirt and pulled him forward, her lips finding his and for the longest second of his life, Gordon didn't know what to do.

He couldn't think and everything in him was screaming to do something he hadn't been prepared for. Another second and she pulled away, grinning as though she'd won a challenge set up to gauge his reaction. It appeared she'd guessed correctly as he stammered for anything to ground him.

"Breathe, Gordon," a gentle instruction and he complied, a wobbly smile mixing with the butterflies attacking his brain. "Not exactly what was on the agenda for today, I suppose, but you appear to have quite a way with words and I wanted a break."

Her needs shook their way through his initial bewilderment and he refocused, "Oh, yeah, a break sounds good." His mind stuttered again, unsure what else to do until the most basic question popped out. "Can I get you anything?"

An astonished chuckle at something Gordon had obviously missed and she shook her head, her smile dangerously sharp with absolute meaning, "No, I'm certain I've got everything I need," she leaned in until he could feel the brush of her words over his skin, "right here." And their lips met, hers soft and encouraging, his finally catching up from the previous. Old desires - buried by the fear she might never share them - bubbled up in bursts of warmth, fingers reaching to cradle her neck and tangling in her hair. She was intoxicating in the way she sent his mind careening into the clouds and it was all he could do to remember why he was in her home in the first place.

"Pen," slipped between a kiss before he'd realized he could even speak.

A gentle shush and her free arm was wrapping around his shoulders with the intent of pulling herself closer. That was the problem Gordon was intending to point out and the hiss of pain that followed the shushing was enough to break him free.

"Are you okay?" He asked through tingling lips that tasted of the tea she'd had at breakfast - flowery and sweet.

"I'm fine," Penelope grit out, nothing like the lady she often portrayed, her hand rubbing circles into her hip muscles. "Just sore."

Lips thin with renewed purpose, Gordon took her shoulders, gently guiding her back down to the mat with little resistance. That alone alerted him to just how much she hurt, "Lay still for a bit. I'll help you stretch."

Slow, deliberate movements and he was rewarded with a groan and a steady exhale as she relaxed. The tables had turned and now she was under his ministrations, simply breathing through the release of pressure.

"So," it was a start as Gordon felt his confidence returning, "that was, uh, nice."

"Just nice?" Penelope teased.

"Okay, way more than nice," a laugh caught the tension in his chest that threatened to burst with exuberance. His smile beamed, "amazing, actually."

"I aim for nothing less," the pleased smirk dropped into something more serious - apologetic, "I do hope you'll forgive me for taking so long."

He frowned, not sure why she would be holding herself accountable for something that went both ways. He could have told her on multiple occasions how he felt. Sure, she probably knew, or had some kind of inkling, but he could've been more open.

Shaking his head, the grin returned, "Only if you can forgive me for being too chicken to ask."

Penelope smiled, appearing to come to the same conclusion as himself - they were both hopeless and there was no point dwelling on the 'should have's. Not when the 'now' still felt fresh against his lips and he longed to continue where they'd abruptly left off.

There was still work to do, however, if her ladyship wanted to get back on her feet as soon as possible.

"Alright, breaks over," Gordon tried not to flush under the surprised gaze she was sending him. His words might have been assertive, but one look from her could destroy him.

"By all means, lead on," she had his hand, moving it to her lips for a single kiss against his knuckles and in that moment, Gordon hated his sense of responsibility.

The exercises continued on the mat until Parker arrived with the mid-morning tea. Gordon helped her stand, his arm around her waist for support. She seemed more than happy to lean on him as they moved over to the settee. Normally, she would take one of the fancy lounges and he would be forced to sit on his own, wishing he had it in him to tell her what she meant to him. Those issues were behind them now and Gordon found himself a human shaped pillow as Penelope leaned against him, exhaustion winning over the desire to pick up her tea.

With a flick of amber up to the elder man, Parker read the dilemma loud and clear, handing the cup and saucer to the aquanaut. So, pillow and table he was to be.

"Thank you, Gordon," her fingers wrapped into the delicate handle and he could see the hint of a tremble. She was too good at hiding how she was really feeling and he took note to pay closer attention.

"You should really go lay down," he held out the saucer as she lowered the cup onto it.

"I am laying down," a small smile and Penelope tucked herself farther against him.

"I mean, no argument here, but you'll be sore when you get up," he had more than his fair share of injuries requiring physical therapy and memories of waking up in a chair and not his bed were burned into his memories.

"I'll take my chances," the tea lifted again, Penelope gesturing towards a small device on the coffee table. "Might as well see how the world's doing."

"How about something a little less distressing," he kissed the top of her head at the slight huff, taking it as agreement. Another careful lean forward and he took the tech, activating the feed and finding a movie channel. A romance - great. Not normally his cup of tea, but it certainly wasn't a disaster flick that could dredge up memories of the incident.

Penelope adjusted against him as he resumed his pillow status, her hair brushing against his cheek, soft and warm in the late afternoon sun. He found himself unable to focus on the movie, amber watching the top of her head, the rise and fall of her chest, her fingers twisting into the hem of her shirt - and the quickest glance of the discolored skin over her hip and side. It was a scar that no amount of money could have removed, though Penelope had come fairly close. If he hadn't known what to look for, Gordon might have thought it a wrinkle or a slight fold of skin.

The memory of finding her trapped in the rubble, unmoving and presumably dead had it not been for the weak pulse under his trembling fingers, invaded his mind's eye and he hoped she couldn't feel the terror jolt through his chest. When she shifted again, her fingers leaving her shirt to find his hand anchored him back to reality. Penelope was alight with life, be it subdued with the fatigue of therapy. No need to worry about losing her right this moment. No need to whisper stories into her ear to encourage her awake while machines bleeped as they monitored her life.

His lady was a fighter, more so than Gordon figured he would ever be and that alone let him relax into the ancient fabric of the antique sofa, the cup and saucer relinquished to his side in order for gentle fingers to comb through the streams of gold washing over his chin. He tucked the strands behind her ear and listened to the content sigh and even breaths.

He had her, safe and sound, on the mend and that was all he needed to let the day continue on, her ladyship drifting to sleep against him.