Jacob was baking.

Flamel might not have kept food in the house, but he had a working kitchen and the kindly baker down the street had taken one look at Jacob's face as he asked to buy some flour, sugar and butter in broken French, and allowed him to take what he needed from the storeroom.

Now, Jacob was kneading the dough. Press, fold, turn. Press, fold turn. He was making Mooncalf pastries. Queenie loved Mooncalves.

No.

He was not going to think about Queenie right now. Or Newt. Or Tina. He was going to finish baking these pastries with only the recipe in his mind, and then they were all going to show up with annoying wizard suddenness, and be perfectly uninjured and unharmed.

Back to the kneading. Press, fold, turn. Sprinkle some extra flour. Press, fold, turn. Press, fold - CRACK!

Jacob jumped. The dough that was supposed to be the Mooncalf's left eye went flying into the air and crashing into Flamel's grandfather clock.

Jacob had barely turned around before he was knocked backwards by a flurry of pink.

'QUEENIE! Thank heavens!' Jacob cried. He pulled her away from him and drank in the sight of her. Her eyes, wide and deep, her smile, soft and sweet, her hands, gentle and reassuring. The relief seemed to fill him up like a tank of water, rushing up from his feet to his head. It was so overwhelming, so much so that he said whispered once again 'Queenie...', and promptly fainted.

'Jacob!' Queenie cried, as Newt and Theseus hurried forward to catch him. Queenie stumbled, her legs weak, and Tina rushed forward to support her.

'He'll be all right,' said Newt. 'Just a little shocked.'

Queenie nodded, despite the fact that she knew Newt was assessing Jacob's health from the perspective of a Magizoologist rather than a Healer.

'Queenie...' a weak voice rose form the couch.

'See, he's fine already.'

Queenie rushed to his side. 'You scared me, honey.'

Jacob's eyebrows rose despite himself. 'I scared you?' He didn't know why he was suddenly so angry. Newt as checking his pulse; Jacob shook off the Magizoologist's hand impatiently and leapt to his feet. 'I scared you? You dropped me hear and went tearing off to fight the madman, leaving me with absolutely no clue what was going on, and you say I scared YOU?'

'She saved Leta's life,' Theseus said quietly, but Jacob paid him no heed.

'I know, I know,' Queenie said quickly, her eyes swimming with tears. 'I'm sorry, Jacob.'

And with that, Jacob was defused. It's all right. Jacob sighed. I know why you had to go. He thought back to this days in the war, when difficult decisions were an everyday occurrence. The truth about difficult decisions was that they weren't decisions at all - they were just difficult situations; most of the tie there was no choice. And Queenie had made a difficult decision by going back to Pere Lachaise.

'Oh, sweetie, I'm so glad you understand. Not glad that you had to go through all that in the war, honey, only that you understand me now.'

Queenie and Jacob were gazing so intently into each other's eyes that the other seven adults in the room were made to feel rather superfluous.

'Come on,' said Tina, directly the lot of them to go into the next room. 'Those one-sided conversations can last for ages, believe me. Let's discuss the plan out here.'