A/N: And after that monstrous curveball, a peaceful, Christmassy interlude...with nice little surprise at the end. Thank you yet again (I'm getting a bit like a stuck record on this one) for all the lovely reviews. I really appreciate your support and I'm glad you're enjoying reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Chapter Thirty Two
Winter Dreams
Taylor reads the latest reports from the various teams on their progress during the year. Despite their marginal observance of the seasons, he still continues to run things on the basis of calendar years, so all the reports that he has are the last of the year, solstice being barely a week away.
He sighs as he reads about the loss of Geoff; a talented engineer who, while he can be replaced in terms of ability, as he had several people in his team, seems to have left a real hole in the Sustainable Industries department - certainly he was very popular with his colleagues, all of whom have rallied around his widow. Unlike Mike, who is not lamented at all thanks to the manner in which he brought about his death, the funeral was very well attended. The only people at Mike's burial were the Chaplain and Taylor himself - and he only went because he wanted a sense of closure to the horrible incident. The arrival of Ben, from Mira's contingent - he fights with himself to avoid using the term Sixers any more - seems to have filled that gap admirably. While he is also something of a man-mountain, he's with someone already, so there's no danger of history repeating itself on that score.
At least Yseult survived the sudden wave of floodwater that swamped the river so violently. Carol's warning had reached almost everyone - but if Pete hadn't seen it, then they would have been mourning her, too. Thank God she survived; chances are that, if she hadn't, Malcolm might well have actually left the compound with the intention of engaging with something with teeth - and even if they'd stopped him, he would've been a broken wreck with that to cope with on top of everything else that he went through. She's home now, awaiting the all clear to return to work, though she's probably been okay to go back for a while - Elisabeth seems to have been stalling on that front. They've had a hell of a year - the pair of them. If there's one good thing about it all, it seems to have got them back together again; he hadn't noticed the friction that had developed between them - that was something Jim mentioned - but everyone is now wondering if they're going to take the next step and actually tie the knot.
Now that the final figures and statistics are in from the Agriculture teams, it seems that the less fruitful year that has passed wasn't quite as unfruitful as he had feared. There are no significant gluts, that's true: but stocks are high, and they won't starve. All in all, he's more than happy with how things have panned out this year - at least in terms of practicality.
It seems strange to him now that they no longer have the threat of the Phoenix Group hanging over their heads. The destruction of Hope Plaza is hardly going to take a short time to rectify, and what are the chances of anyone backing a new project given the disaster that befell the site? Who's going to know that it was a bomb that destroyed it, and not some catastrophic accident that could've happened sooner or later of its own accord? No - he feels as secure as is possible given the lack of communication that there's no risk of another assault in even the medium term. Of those who tried to take their home, the stranded soldiers are either dead, or happily assimilated into the colony, while those who betrayed them have also found a way back in that has worked for everyone. Certainly, given the alternative, the three remaining soldiers are more than grateful to be part of the community - particularly that one who's taken up with Yseult's deputy - what was his name? Oh yes: Louis.
Losing contact with the future wasn't really the way he wanted things to pan out - but given what the future had planned for them, it seems to him that they had no other choice. There may be no new pilgrims joining them; but at least there's no one coming to steal the resources that this young world has to offer. Better to consider the glass to be half full than half empty.
How many times has he thought that through, now? More than he can count; but it serves as a constant reminder to him that the choices that they made in the face of occupation were the right ones. Even though the price for those choices was as high as it was.
Finishing the last few notes, he adds a few comments of his own, and saves them to transmit to the Eye.
Old habits die hard - and so do young ones, it seems. Coming home for lunch is an integral part of Malcolm's day, whereas once it was a rare thing for him to even remember to eat one. He does, of course, have a very good reason to do so.
Yseult is looking so much better - her chest is fine now, and she is almost climbing the walls with boredom, wanting to get back to work. It does mean that she tends to spend rather more time cooking than usual, so the meal that awaits him is more elaborate than a salad, but the fact that she's there - that she's alive - is what matters the most.
He looks at the small box on his desk with a nervous sigh. Inside is a remarkably pretty ring, made of gold panned from the river, with a simply set iolite, the bluest one that Sozume, the hobby-jeweller who also plays the koto, could find on one of her many mineral hunts around the colony. Being married to one of Yseult's other engineers, she is as fond of Yseult as anyone else who knows her, and she has gone to great lengths to ensure that the ring is as perfect as she can make it. Given that he has no heirloom to pass on, it's just what he'd hoped for, and he knows Yseult well enough to know that she loathes jewellery that's ostentatious or obvious.
Putting it back in a drawer, he ponders the next problem: how to actually propose.
"Elisabeth's given me the all clear to start work on Monday." Yseult says, as she dishes out a vegetable stir fry, "So it's back to salads and sandwiches again next week."
"I can't complain." Malcolm smiles at her, "I think I need to be better behaved on that front - I'm sure I've put weight on while you've been off work."
"Gives me more to hang on to." She glances at him, a slightly wicked expression in her eyes.
In the time that they've been home, the pair have been as engrossed in one another as ever. Having spent a good thirty minutes or more thinking that she was dead, Malcolm treats every minute that they're together as a grand reprieve, and Yseult, having thought that she was going to die, is much the same. Perhaps they should discuss the issue of Niall, but the near-disaster that engulfed them has driven him out of their minds for the time being, regardless of whether or not his imagined presence has been truly tackled and set aside.
Their conversation is sparse as they eat, though Yseult has resumed her habit of sitting very, very close to him. Even when she was feeling at her most wounded after their argument, she almost couldn't bear to be apart from him; missing that sense of his presence almost tangibly. She has, however, always been that way - loving utterly and absolutely; perhaps the fact that he genuinely meant no harm helped. Besides, she knows him well enough now to know that he appreciates that closeness as much as she does. Niall found it so hard - even though he adored her - and to find that Malcolm doesn't merely tolerate it, but actively welcomes it, is something that she revels in.
"Do you want me to clear up?" Malcolm asks, as they set the plates aside.
"It's okay - leave them, it'll give me something exciting to do this afternoon." Yseult laughs, "But I'd appreciate a nice hot cup of tea."
Seated together, she snuggles close to him on the couch as she always does, and he wraps his arm about her shoulders, as he always does. Should he do it now? No - he's left the ring in his office. Damn. Maybe he should start carrying it around - it's not as though the pockets of his cargo pants are lacking the space for it.
It seems ridiculous - all he needs to say are the four words 'will', 'you', 'marry' and 'me' - and it's as though he's trying to say something enormous like Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis. The trouble is - he wants it to be just right: a proposal that she'll remember. He has no idea how Niall did it - but given that Niall is now something of a taboo subject between them, he doesn't want to ask. Maybe a suitable opportunity will present itself - in which case, he needs to be sure that he's always got that ring with him.
"Are you alright?" Yseult asks, sounding a little drowsy.
He tightens his arms around her, "Very. Are you going to fall asleep on me?"
"I'm thinking about it. Then you can't go back to work this afternoon, and I have you all to myself."
"Tempting though that sounds, I'll have to decline, I'm afraid. I don't think Commander Taylor will appreciate me not turning up to our meeting and using the excuse 'Max fell asleep on me.'" He thinks about it, "It'd probably make him laugh, mind. Once he'd stopped lecturing me about keeping to commitments and being on time."
"Either that or he'd ask what we were doing to make me fall asleep on you."
He shudders with embarrassment, "Don't even go there."
Maddy sits up from the bio-bed, "Is everything okay?"
"Absolutely fine, Maddy." Elisabeth assures, "I know you don't believe it, but these scans are all perfectly routine - your little one's coming on in leaps and bounds."
"It feels like it." She admits, "I knew babies moved in the womb, but I couldn't imagine what it would feel like until now."
"I suppose you can't, until you have one yourself." Elisabeth laughs, "This is just the beginning - wait until the little one's larger, then you'll really notice it. How's Mark coping with all of this? I'm surprised he's not with you - this is the first scan he's missed."
"He's being brilliant, Mom; the only reason he's not here is because he's on duty, and couldn't get the time to come with me."
"I think I'll go and see Mr Guzman later on armed with a Hard Stare. I take it you don't want to know what you'll be having?"
"No. we want it to be a surprise." Maddy insists, "If you know, then please don't tell me."
"I'm taking great care to not know." Elisabeth admits, "If I did, then I don't think I could stop myself from letting it slip - I learned that the hard way a long time ago. It's frighteningly easy to accidentally say 'he' or 'she' without thinking - and I did that with one of the first couples I was monitoring, and they wanted to keep it a surprise as much as you do - so I usually qualify my discussions with parents to be as 'I shall be using the pronoun he throughout because I don't want to say it'."
"That sounds a real minefield." Maddy laughs, "I'm glad I went into Pharmacology."
"Everything's progressing beautifully." Elisabeth assures her, "And I'll be telling your father that as soon as I get home tonight."
Taylor sets the plex down, "This is looking pretty good for next year. I take it this is just preliminary?"
Malcolm nods, "It has to be - some of Chris's plans are dependent on how the weather pans out this winter before the new growing season begins - our long-term forecasting ability would be reliant on satellites, which we don't have. Carol's radiosondes are great, but they can only get so high before the balloon bursts and they drop again."
The Commander nods, then sets the plex down, and sits back in his chair, "And what about your plans?"
"Mine?" Malcolm asks, a little bemused, "I've just presented them…"
"You know what I mean." Taylor interrupts, pointedly, "When are you going to man up and ask Max to marry you?"
"Excuse me?"
"Call me intrusive if you want - I don't really care. But you nearly lost Max a few weeks ago - don't make the same mistake I made, for God's sake. I'm still regretting it now."
Malcolm frowns, then his expression changes as he realises what Taylor means, "Lieutenant Washington?"
"I let the ghost of a past marriage hold me back - pretended to myself that what I felt for Alicia was just friendship. There was always more time - until there wasn't. It's only hindsight that's twenty-twenty, Malcolm - you didn't see the woman you loved die."
"I thought she was." Malcolm admits, "I overheard some of my team reading messages from the riverside - I heard them say she'd drowned, and I just went into shock and stumbled out. I didn't hear the rest of the message that said that she'd been resuscitated; for about half an hour, I thought she'd died." He sits very still for a moment, struggling with the memory, "When Jim found me, I was waiting for the gates to open so I could go out and find something that would kill me. If she was dead, I wanted to be with her."
Taylor nods. He can understand that; ironically, it was his need to protect the Colony, to wrest it back from those who were intent on its destruction that had kept him going when he lost Alicia. The cruellest part of that was that the one who'd taken Alicia from him was the one who had kept him going when Ayani was taken from him.
"I want to ask Max to marry me," Malcolm admits, "I want to make that commitment to her - more than anything. It's just…I want it to be right. And…and…I don't know how to make it that way."
"I find just saying the words tends to be the way forward." Taylor advises, dryly.
"It's not that; it's just, she's been married before, and I don't want to look like I'm trying to copy Niall, or outdo him…"
"What's Niall got to do with any of this? Whatever you do'll be unique because you're the one asking, not him."
Malcolm looks at him, a bit helplessly, and then he gets it; the problem isn't so much being reminiscent of Niall - but the fact that he exists at all, "So, basically, the problem is that you can't ask her to marry you because of Niall? Why? Did you ever meet him?"
Malcolm shakes his head, "No. I don't recognise his face - and until Max turned up at the staff meeting, I'd never seen her. We moved in entirely different circles - well; she did. I just went to work and back."
Taylor nods. Despite there being only a limited number of Colonists, a thousand is a lot of people. It's no surprise that someone as unsociable as Malcolm wouldn't have come across her.
"Don't you think you're building too much on him? He's gone - she lost him five years ago, and now she's got you. Believe me, you're not a Niall substitute. If there's one thing I've observed about Max, she loves absolutely and completely. That's a rare thing - and it's something that she's chosen to give to you. There are no caveats, no conditions - the only person who's imposing them is you, isn't it?"
Malcolm nods, glumly, "I think so. You're right about her - I had no idea until I met her. I thought I had something with Elisabeth, but she knew we didn't - and now that I've got Max, I understand that, too. That's why I hurt her so much when I overreacted about Niall; but I think, in some ways, that I feel the same way about her, and that's why I overreacted. And that's why I decided to go out and introduce myself to the nearest Carnotaurus when I thought she was dead. Of all the bad things that've happened to me - it doesn't get worse than thinking Max had drowned."
"Well you have had a pretty awful year." Taylor agrees.
"Not just that - the occupation was horrible as well."
"McCormick; yeah, that was cruel as hell. It can't have helped having people thinking you were helping Lucas and Weaver because you wanted to, or you were too much of a coward to refuse."
"I think that's why I never told anyone that Lucas had me tortured." Malcolm murmurs.
"He what?" Taylor stares at him, "When did he do that?"
"After the Shannons escaped, and he…shot Lieutenant Washington. He was looking for someone else - anyone else - who might know where you were. I was the only member of the senior staff left. He couldn't shoot me: not if he wanted that bloody terminus working again; so he opted for torture. He left me with two of Mira's men - they strapped me into a chair, blindfolded me and kept shocking me with a taser until they finally accepted I had no idea where you were. The only instruction he gave them was to make sure that I was capable of continuing work after they'd finished with me. I only found out where to find you the evening before they fired up the terminus once I'd finished it. Skye told me - she was the only one that wasn't under the same degree of scrutiny as we were, so Jim felt she would be safe if she knew."
"Christ, Malcolm - why didn't you say anything?"
He sighs, "After what other people went through? It seemed so minor in comparison - and, to be honest, I thought that people would think I was angling for sympathy. Besides, I got my revenge in a way - I blew the terminus. The fact that both the men involved are dead now means I don't have to see them around the Colony, which is helpful. One died in the Badlands, the other one in the forest just before Mira brought them here."
"But you thought people wouldn't take you seriously?"
"Would you?" Malcolm asks, pointedly, "Let's face it, Commander, things might have changed a little - but I'm still considered to be a stuck up idiot by half the Colony, and I suspect that not a few of them wonder what the hell Max is doing with me. Given that most people assumed I was too much of a coward to refuse to mend the terminus, or that I agreed to do it willingly, I'm not fool enough to think that I'm Mr Popular around here. Even when I was a really obnoxious berk, I didn't think that."
"I like that: 'berk'. You and your English expressions." Taylor smiles. Regardless of anything that Malcolm has said, he's grown, and become a considerably less annoying man than he used to be.
"I'm Scottish." Malcolm answers, almost a reflex response - then he realises what he's just said, and looks rather embarrassed. So much for keeping that quiet. Telling Yseult must've weakened his barriers over that issue.
"Pardon?"
"I was named after Malcolm III of Scotland: the one who turfed out Macbeth, and I'm a member of Clan Wallace: the one that William Wallace belonged to - and no he's not an ancestor."
"You're yanking my chain…"
Malcolm shakes his head, then rises from his chair and looks out of the window, "I was born in Kilmarnock. My father was Duncan Wallace."
"The Duncan Wallace?" Taylor asks, just as Jim and Yseult did before him. He knows the name as much as they do.
"Yes. Do you remember when I lost my rag with you and Jim when you were questioning Rob about the Sixer spy? Now you know why. I was ten years old when they came to escort him to Holyrood for the hearings. I never saw him again."
"All your paperwork says you're English - not to mention your accent."
"Guilt by association, Commander. When my father was indicted, my mother lost her job at the University - and all of my father's assets were confiscated. It was a choice of stay in Scotland and live in poverty, or move to England to live with my mother's cousin. So we moved."
"How the hell did you get out? I recall the border between Scotland and England being tighter than a frog's ass back then - you'd've needed exit passes to get out legally."
"My mother sold her engagement and wedding rings. It got her enough to bribe an official to give us the passes, and pay for the rail ticket to King's Cross. If we hadn't been picked up at the other end, then we would've been stranded. It's only because she had English relatives that we were able to qualify for Citizenship - otherwise I wouldn't have been able to go to school, and I would've been sent back. As it was, the only decent schools by then were the ones that charged fees, so she home schooled me for two years, and then I got a scholarship to Harrow. It all sort of went from there, really. That's why I don't sound Scottish - I trained myself to speak differently when I was at Harrow. I don't think I could consciously revert to my Scots accent now even with a gun to my head."
"Does Max know?" Taylor asks, quietly.
Malcolm nods, "She knew it even before we were officially dating. I told her while we were watching over a charcoal burn. Believe me: we don't have any secrets from each other. I've told her everything about myself that I can think of - including what those two Sixers did to me. Anything that I've forgotten, I'll add it as I go."
"I don't know about you, but that sounds like commitment. Just get your butt into gear and ask her to marry you, Malcolm. Even if it's not getting to Max, it's driving all of us up the wall. Don't force me to make it an order."
"I'm a civilian." Malcolm reminds him.
"Then I'll do it at gunpoint."
Yseult wakes to find the other side of the bed empty, and looks around, bemused. She's not a particularly heavy sleeper, but she didn't notice Malcolm get up, and she wonders where he is.
"Bugger. I was hoping you'd wake up and find a mug of tea at the bedside."
She sits up a little to see him in the doorway with a brace of steaming mugs, and she smiles. While the festival itself is tomorrow, the Solstice holiday always starts the day before - a form of Christmas Eve, perhaps; though for her, Christmas Eve was the night upon which her family celebrated in Germany - something she continued to do even after she moved to England; it was a great excuse to have two parties - Christkindl Nacht the night before for her, and then Christmas Day for Niall. She fully intends to maintain that tradition with Malcolm. Besides, Louis, never able to keep a secret, has let slip to Pete that the choir will be sneaking into the market place this evening to sing carols and see how many people turn up to find out what's going on. Given that there'll be some form of party at Boylan's as it is, they won't be short of an audience.
"So, what are we going to do today?" Malcolm muses as he hands over her mug and sets his down.
"I can think of something." Yseult smiles, leaning in to share a kiss.
"We can't do that all day. What do we do afterwards?" he smiles at her.
"Opa used to take me for a walk in the morning: sometimes we'd go to the Weinachtmarkt in the Römerberg, or we'd go tobogganing if there'd been any snow - though that had become a real rarity by that time." She says, "We'd get home, and I'd find that my father had come home from work, and the Christkind had been - so we'd open our presents, and then we'd have dinner in the evening, usually a roast goose or a carp, and then we'd go to a midnight mass. Opa insisted on that. Some households would have another huge meal on Christmas day, and the day after, too - but we tended to push the boat out on Christmas Eve. It was weird to come to England and find that people didn't do that, so I used to have a sort of 'German Evening' for our friends to replicate it."
"Do you want to do that here?" He asks.
"I haven't for a long time - it would be lovely; though I haven't got anything to do it with this year. We'll have to do it next year instead - but I can wait."
"I'm all for extending a holiday. We might even have some friends who'll have learned to tolerate me by then."
The day is quiet - though a few traders are busy at the marketplace, catering for those who haven't got everything quite ready for tomorrow. As he always does, Boylan is going to take over the bar for the people who don't have families with whom they can spend the holiday, particularly as it tends to turn into a much larger gathering as people drift in later in the day. Most people are busy at home, putting up decorations where they wish to, preparing industrial quantities of vegetables and prevailing upon Julia for any remaining vintages that aren't made from something too shocking. Elisabeth is one of the vegetable preppers, as Mark and Maddy will be joining them for the celebration dinner again, so Jim has done what Yseult's grandfather used to do, and has taken Zoe out for a walk. Tobogganing is off the menu, as there has never been so much of a flake of snow seen anywhere near to Terra Nova other than gracing the tops of the distant mountains, but she's not quite old enough to have the magic taken away, seated in front of a bowl with a heap of vegetables to peel, and there's not much else to keep her occupied in the interim.
Mira is standing on the balcony of the Command Centre, looking down at the muted activity with a tightly guarded expression. It's at times like this that she most keenly misses Sienna, wondering what she's doing, whether she's well. Whether she's even alive. Tomorrow will not be a celebration for her; so instead she has volunteered - well, more like insisted - to keep watch over the Colony while everyone parties. Once, that would've been a prime opportunity to spy, or steal. Now, however, it's a way of keeping herself from falling apart.
Jim's eye is caught by her rigid stance, and he sighs inwardly. The dislike and distrust that he once had for the remarkable woman that stands on the balcony has largely been replaced by respect. He'll never like her - not after all that she's done - but he knows that she's doing the best she can to deal with a horribly cruel hand. He was lucky - he managed to get Zoe here. She, on the other hand, was not.
He can't really think of any reason to go up and talk to his deputy, so instead he continues on his way, stopping at the Memorial Garden with Zoe for a moment, before moving on in the direction of some rather fine looking fruit kebabs that have clearly caught her eye. Given that they won't be eating for a few more hours, he does not demur when she eyes them with artful hope. She may not be five anymore, but she still knows which buttons she can get away with pushing.
She is still working her way through the selection when they run into Skye, laden with a bag of various vegetables to take home to her mother, as they are hosting Commander Taylor again tomorrow. Tonight, however, they will be entertaining Josh, as they are now, more or less officially, an item, "Hi Mr Shannon."
"I think we've got past the Mr Shannon, Skye. 'Jim' will do just fine." He grins at her.
"All ready for tomorrow?"
"Mostly, I think. We've just escaped the tyranny of the kitchen - I'm just as dangerous with a kitchen knife as Zoe."
"Daaaad." Hell - now she's got to 'that' age…
Skye laughs, recognising the familiar plaint of the young person embarrassed by a parent, "Enjoy it while it lasts, Zoe. When I get home, it'll be chopping city for the next hour and a half. I'm just grateful it's not onions." She leans in a little, "This is supposed to be a secret - but just in case you haven't heard, come back here about twenty hundred."
"Why?" Jim asks.
"You'll see."
"So you're not gonna tell me?"
"Nope." She smiles, sweetly.
It's been a wonderfully lazy day, staying at home with Malcolm, cooking a simple dinner before going all out tomorrow, as they've invited Pete and Louis to join them, and just stopping every now and again to hug, or kiss. She'd forgotten how nice it is to share a holiday with a loved one.
For Malcolm, on the other hand, it's been a rather strange experience. The box with the ring in it is in his pocket, and it's been a sequence of shall I do it now? on and off for the entire day. Last year had been a wonderful day, having spent it with Yseult - but they'd still been barely courting then - now they're a couple, and he is still trying to find a really good moment to pop the question. While Ninette has made him a lovely shawl to give her tomorrow, he wants the biggest gift to be the ring - with all that it signifies. He just can't find the 'right' moment to do it. Either that or he's too scared she'll say no - even though it's more likely that Father Christmas will turn up in a flashing neon sleigh before that'll happen.
As evening draws in, the pair don coats and head out in search of the carollers. The news has spread - despite attempts to keep it a surprise - and they find that there are plenty of people making their way towards the sound of Once in Royal David's City, which is, to most, the traditional first carol at any service. Some people have even brought lanterns.
"I wish I'd thought of that." Yseult grumps, good-naturedly.
Taylor is on his balcony again, watching in fascination as the sound of voices lifted in song seems almost to draw people like a magnet. Those who know the carols join in almost without thinking about it, and the chorus grows, accompanied by the occasional roaring or wailing of a dinosaur in the forests beyond the fence. It's the strangest accompaniment that he's ever heard to a carol service, that's for sure.
Gradually, the crowd swells as more and more people turn up. Those who know the carols keep on adding to the sound, while those who know only the tunes hum along instead. Even up on his balcony, above their heads, Taylor finds himself doing the same - somehow it's impossible to hear those familiar songs, and not join in. He's never seen anything like it, and neither has the Cretaceous.
The choir makes its way through all the well known favourites - and a few that hardly anyone can join in with because they're not well known, but they end with Hark the Herald Angels Sing, which is as familiar an ending carol to those who know such things as Once In Royal is a starter.
Even those who don't know the words are humming along, and they finish the final verse as a pterosaur wheels overhead, startled by the unfamiliar sound of a song that won't be written for another eighty-odd million years. The applause is loud and appreciative, and people seem most unwilling to disperse; someone - probably Pete - has kicked off We Wish you a Merry Christmas. It's the sort of thing he would do.
As people round off the song, Malcolm suddenly releases his arm from about Yseult's waist, and grasps her hand, pulling her into the open space where the choir are standing. He couldn't find a 'right' moment while they were alone - he wants to make his commitment as clear as he possibly can, and now he's found it.
Within a matter of seconds, the entire assembly has gone quiet - there isn't a soul present who hasn't figured out what he's planning to do, after all. Everyone's been waiting for this since Maddy threw her bouquet three months ago.
Fumbling in his pocket, he retrieves the box, and, casting his dignity to the wind, goes down on one knee in the traditional manner, "Yseult Maxwell," he says very solemnly, and nervously, "will you marry me?"
She stares at him, her expression one of such astonishment that, for a moment he is terrified that he's got it utterly wrong. Her eyes are glistening, and she seems barely able to speak, and it takes a few attempts before finally she is able to get the words out, "Yes - oh, yes - I will!"
The pair of them seem to be trembling as he opens the box and retrieves the ring that Sozume took so much care to create, and Yseult extends her left hand for him to gently ease it onto her ring finger. It's official. They're engaged.
"About damn time, too!" Taylor's voice roars across from the Command Centre balcony, "Let's hear it, people!"
Much to Malcolm's surprise, as he has never regarded himself to be even remotely popular, the entire place seems to erupt in cheers as he rises to his feet, and Yseult throws her arms about his neck. Sod it - who bloody cares how Niall did it? She's happy. He's happy. It's Solstice, and what would have been, but for her, the worst year of his life is nearly over. Things can only go up from here.
