Another Fly heavy chapter (I mean, this fic is Fly heavy, so…) where I try to delve into more of who Florence is as a person and how much she's trying to figure out. I also feel like her reaction to Ralph telling her in S4 how good at everything Sylvester is ("oh yeah well I'm just sort of only good at chemistry") is a big sign of her feeling inadequate to him, which could be a fairly major issue with them in a relationship, at least to start. I'm also trying to make them feel like the beginning of the Fly that you read about in A Conflict of Parallels but without the years of romantic history they had at the start of that one.

Writing is quite the challenge, to say the least. xD

Two cases down post reunion, hopefully a lifetime of them to go.

Happy and Toby had been tired afterward and wanted to go right home – and after enduring some good natured ribbing from Paige about how it was probably good they're not adopting a newborn – they'd headed out with a wave. Paige needed to get home to Ralph, so it was without question that the team dinner idea they'd thrown out earlier that day was going to be postponed until the following evening. So Florence invited Sylvester over to her place to eat. Afterward, they sat on the couch, watching some old game show from the fifties. At some point he had leaned over to kiss her, gently, almost politely, and when he'd smiled at her afterward, she'd realized she wanted to kiss him again.

So she did. Then they kissed again, and again, and then hands moved and bodies shifted and tongues got involved and now it was a solid five minutes later and she was twisted on the couch, hips angled, knees resting between Sylvester's as he held her close to him while their lips parted only for breath. She had a hand on the back of his neck and the other resting on his cheek, marveling at what a good kisser he was.

But of course he was.

He had been married.

He had kissed his wife many, many times.

She pulled back, and he smiled affectionately at her, not appearing confused nor alarmed that she'd broken that part of their intimacy. But appearances could be deceiving. Was he wondering why she'd stopped kissing him? They were alone, they were at her place, it was getting dark outside…was he thinking, expecting, hoping this would go further?

After all, he had been married.

Her anxiety rarely manifested itself as dizziness, and she knew some of what she was feeling had to have been from exhilaration, but combined with the nervousness in her stomach, she knew the anxiety was part of it.

"Is something wrong?" Sylvester asked, now showing some of that confusion.

"Can we…can we talk?"

"…yes…" He let go of her, giving her room to settle back on a separate couch cushion and face him. "Did I do something?"

"No. I've just been doing a lot of thinking, and, I mean…" she wasn't sure what to say other than to come right out with it. "This feels odd."

"What does? Us?"

"Yes. No. I mean…" she shrugged. "I know when you overheard me talking to Paige earlier this year, I sounded like I knew exactly what I needed. Then I thought I had feelings for someone who wasn't any of those things. That made me doubt what I had been so sure of. Then I worked through that, and that was hard, but when I cleared out all the other stuff, you were who was left. And you are the embodiment of what I need in someone. But at the same time…" she shrugged again. "I haven't dated anyone else. You've been married. You have experiences I don't have. Sometimes when we go out or when we kiss because…" she felt her face flushing, "because you're a really good kisser, it feels like I'm a student and you're a teacher and that makes me feel icky."

Sylvester's face changed. He stared at her a long moment, and when he spoke, she could barely hear him. "Icky?"

She hated how she felt. She hated how she was making him feel. "I know Paige has taught Walter a lot. I know that's part of their bond. But initially, wasn't it just a professional trade off? She teaches him about social situations, he helps her and Ralph bond? It was never just about her teaching him, or her…fixing him or whatever. She gave and he took on some things and then he gave and she took on others, and they fell in love along the way." She put her head in her hands, pushing her hair back over the top of her head, then lifted it again to look back at him. "Sly, if we were both these naïve, inexperienced kids who had no idea or if I had more history, I know I would feel differently. But the way things are, I just…I feel I have nothing to give."

He nodded. She wasn't sure if he wasn't responding because he was processing or because he wanted to give her more time to get words out, but either way, she appreciated the quiet because she wasn't at all sure how to keep going. "I, uh…" she breathed out through her nose. "I've been more open with you than I have been with anyone in a long time. And that may sound surprising because it's still really difficult for me to be vulnerable. But I trust you. I like you. A lot. I just feel like we're totally unbalanced and that you know where you're going while I'm just following along, constantly wondering what to do next or even if I'm doing whatever I'm currently doing right."

He reached out one of his hands. "Can I…?" She nodded, lifting one of hers off her knee and bridging the gap. He squeezed it gently. "I've told you before that my wife was my first experience with a lot of things. She was like Paige in the sense that she would have qualified as a 'normal,' but neither of us really knew what we were doing in our relationship. We just knew it felt right when we were together. You might feel like our experience is unbalanced, but I don't feel that way. Megan and I were innocent, in a way. We kissed. We talked. We cuddled, sometimes, when she could handle it. One night, we danced. The talking was what meant the most to us. And doing things together, like sitting on the beach or reading or going places, when she was still mobile. I think those things are immeasurably important in relationships, but can you really get 'experience' at them?" He let the question hang a moment before going on. "You know, like 'oh, that Sylvester Dodd, he's really good at sitting in the sand' or 'he has great experience talking in person.'"

Florence smirked in spite of herself.

"You're eight years older than me, Florence. My wife was twelve years older than me. Some people might say that's…icky. But you're right. Experience is a huge part of it. If you had never been in a relationship and I'd dated as many people as Toby had, then maybe there'd be some sort of power imbalance there. But you're dating a guy who married his first crush less than a year after meeting her for the first time because she was dying and she needed someone in her corner." He grew quiet, looking down at the ring on his left hand. "I still miss her." He looked back at Florence. "And I struggled, really hard, with my feelings for you. I felt guilty. I felt like it was cheating on her to have butterflies in my stomach when you laughed at my jokes. I think that's part of why I lashed out at Walter so strongly that night; I was projecting those feelings onto him and translating hanging out with you as cheating on Paige." He shook his head. "See? There's so much that I don't know. I'm just as bumbling and confused as you are. Plus, love after loss is different. It isn't lesser. It doesn't mean my love for Megan was superficial or fleeting. But I'm a different person now, because I knew her, and because I loved her, so I love differently now. And that's something I know I'm ahead of you on, but I'm not so sure I know how to do this, at least not to the extent that I'm teaching you."

Florence gave a slow nod. She looked down at their hands. "Can I ask you something else? Something kind of…blunt?"

There was a long silence, but the tone that Sylvester used to say "of course," made her realize he had nodded and she just hadn't noticed.

She lifted her face to see him. "Why are you in love with me? And I don't mean that in an 'I'm not worthy' type of way." I mean, I have days where I feel that way, but I don't want you to fixate on that. "I mean it in a, lay it out for me type of way."

"Well." He let go of her hand and drummed against his knees. "You're smart. You…and I knew this already, but looking at them now, wow you have pretty eyes, and…"

She held up a hand, slightly frustrated. He stopped and cocked his head. "What?"

"I don't want an equation, Sylvester. I don't want smart plus nice eyes equals." She shook her head. "I want to know why I'm different from all the other smart plus nice eyes people. You and I both know one plus one is always two. If I'm somehow more than them, there has to be a reason."

Sylvester was quiet for a moment, then licked his bottom lip. "You told Paige earlier this year that you needed someone who had enough heart for two. I can tell you some of the reasons I'm so drawn to you, Florence, but you'll have to take me at my word on the rest of it."

"I'm listening."

He started again. "I think you're cute and I do love your eyes, but it's your soul that gets me. The parts of you that would still remain if your appearance changed entirely. You're extremely intelligent. You're imperfect, but you try. You're good. You care about people and you give everything your all. You're so, so human. Even if you may think you're not sometimes. And then there's the part of this feeling that you can't really explain. You just know. And I've been around a lot of people since Megan died. But none of them made me feel this way. But you…you've got whatever 'it' is."

She was quiet for a long time, her eyes aimed down and away, but not really looking at anything. Then she gave a small nod. "That is a little bit confusing for me."

"I don't think anyone could honestly admit that they understand it completely."

She nodded again. "I'm sorry." She wiped her eye. "Can you go? I don't mean, like…I'm not ending this. I don't even know if I needed to clarify or not but you know, when in doubt…"

She stopped when Sylvester reached over and touched her cheek. "Hey," he said gently, "breathe."

"Yes. Thank you. Um…" she bit her lip. "I just need a little time. Like, tonight. I still want to see you tomorrow and everything. My head is just filled with so much."

He nodded. "I understand."

He got up to go, grabbing his jacket and his bag. She stood up, walking over and giving him a hug at the door. "Thank you for listening to me. And thank you for not making me feel like an idiot."

"Thank you for opening up to me," he whispered. "I know it isn't easy."

She buried her head into his chest, enjoying the feel of their arms around each other a moment longer. When he was gone, she stared at the closed door for what felt like hours before she took out her phone and dialed.

"Walter? It's Florence. I have something I want to ask you, but I don't know if we're at a place where it wouldn't be awkward…ha yeah, I suppose we don't do much in general that isn't awkward." She leaned against the wall. "I really appreciate it. Can I come over? I would much rather do this more detached, but I think I need experience at talking in person."

Thoughts on the chapter? Any ideas of what Florence wants to ask Walter? The review button is below for your convenience (and my ambition).