And I'm back from Belgium (Bruges - absolutely wonderful place; if you can ever get there, you should!), armed with copious quantities of chocolate, of course. This chapter will make you very happy, Leona. Tissues at the ready!

Chapter Thirty Four

You are Cordially Invited

Zoe's emotions are a complicated bundle of excitement and nerves at meeting the baby that is, she's told, her niece. The concept of being an aunt seems utterly foreign to her, given that she's not yet ten and every story she's ever read seems to cast aunts as being elderly. She is, nonetheless, pleased to finally be allowed to see her elder sister having been banned from the delivery itself.

It's been several hours, as Maddy has needed to sleep for a while - and she is still resting when the family enter. That said, she has the little girl in her arms, having only been apart from her for the time that she was asleep; and she seems quite loath to let her go. Even Mark has struggled so far to get a look in, though his expression at the moment seems to be a combination of tiredness and shell-shock.

Being as young as she is, she still retains the forthright nature of a child, and is not afraid to show her keenness to see the new arrival. Carefully, Mark helps her to sit on the bed so that she can see better, and Maddy introduces them, "Here she is, Zoe. Your niece."

"What's her name?" Zoe asks, immediately - unaware of the sometimes delicate nature of family politics in such matters.

Maddy and Mark share a glance; they'd decided this long ago, it seems - one name for a boy, another for a girl - and he looks across at his In-Laws with a smile, "We've decided to call her Elisabeth Rose - after her grandmothers."

Jim is not surprised to see Elisabeth's hand flee to a pocket for a tissue. Nor is he surprised to find that he is likely to need one himself.

The news is all around the colony by lunchtime, and everyone is overjoyed. Even Yseult seems happy, though there is still that slight shadow given her own wish to conceive. She is, however, doing all that she can to hide it - and no one seems to notice other than Malcolm, who has learned to become startlingly astute to her moods. As it will be a few weeks yet before any proper celebrations are held - largely to give the new family some space - things will quieten down in a day or so. At present, however, Yseult is, like Mira, struggling to deal with another's joy in motherhood in the face of her own circumstances.

As they walk home from the market, where Maddy's baby has been the talk of every stall, Malcolm holds Yseult very, very close. Much as he would like to have children now that there's a clean safe world for them to grow up in, the thought of exchanging that for his life with her is so appalling that he can't begin to contemplate it. If he can't have Yseult and children, then he will do without children - the ghastly half hour when he thought her to be dead is proof enough to him that he couldn't accept any other choice. The fact that she is starting to think that she's failed him in some way is painful, because he can't seem to convince her otherwise. Her menstrual cycle has certainly settled - no one who lives in intimate contact with a woman can miss that - but nature seems to be taking its time, and convincing her that she's infertile in the process.

He is not surprised, as he sets their shopping down on the counter, when she bursts into tears; so he abandons it to enfold her in his arms. Words don't help - he's tried often enough and it's made no difference - so he relies upon close contact instead. After a while, she calms - no one can cry forever, after all - and hugs him back, "I'm sorry."

"I know. You don't need to be, though."

He sits her down on the couch, then hastily puts the shopping away and makes her a cup of tea before joining her, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't want to bore you." She says, quietly.

"You're unhappy, Max. I know I can't magically make things better, but I don't want you to think that you're alone in this - you're too important to me."

"I just wish I could get pregnant. We're a couple - and everyone's waiting for the moment when I announce we've got a baby on the way."

"They are?" Malcolm asks, bemused, "What's it got to do with anyone else?" he is quite convinced she's imagining such a degree of scrutiny, but he's not going to say so. She considers it to be the case; so, to her at least, it's very real.

She doesn't say anything, so he hugs her again, "Let's just concentrate on getting married first - I want to make that commitment to you, Max, more than anything. I remember lying on the floor in a tent in the Badlands, feeling like hell and promising myself that, if I survived, I'd bloody well ask you to marry me. It took me months to do it, but, after everything that happened last year, I want to put it behind me once and for all. I want to marry you, Max - not a pregnancy, not the scrutiny of a colony. You're the most precious thing in my life, and I can't think of a more clear way of demonstrating that to you than making vows to that effect in front of our friends. The worst thing that ever happened to me was hearing you scream - until I thought that you were dead: then that became the worst thing that ever happened to me." Suddenly his eyes are filling with tears, "I wanted to die, Max - when I heard you'd drowned. I couldn't face living if you were gone - if I lost you, then I don't know what I'd do."

They hold on to one another for a long, long time, until Yseult looks up at him, "I agree - let's get married first. I promise I'll stop looking at the calendar - or, at least, I'll try."

"I'm not asking you to stop looking at the calendar." He smiles at her, "As long as it's to tick off the days until the fourteenth."


The party to welcome Elisabeth Rose into the community is a merry affair, beginning with a few words out in the Marketplace from Commander Taylor, whose assessment that he is becoming a form of universal grandfather seems to be rather prophetic. He cradles her briefly, and smiles at her - partly because she's a welcome addition to the community, and partly because she's probably the first baby born in the last couple of years that hasn't had his or Wash's name tagged on somewhere.

While at least six people have offered to babysit while Maddy and Mark join the celebrations for the birth of their own child, no one is overly surprised that she's declined. While she is as shellshocked as her husband at the sudden appearance of a brand new human being in her life, she is dealing with the upheaval well, and the pair remain throughout the afternoon, but take little Elisabeth home with them as the evening draws in.

"Come on, you two." Pete crosses to join Malcolm and Yseult, who are still sitting in the marketplace as twilight falls and people dance around them to a jaunty tune from the folk band, "You've only got another two and a half weeks before it's your turn to be the centre of attention. Why not revel in the anonymity for a bit longer on the dance floor?"

"Come on." Malcolm stands and extends his hand to her, "Don't you normally have to drag me up there? How about I startle the hell out of you by doing it the other way round?"

For what feels like the first time in days, she laughs, and allows him to lead her into the dance.


"I didn't realise how difficult this was going to be." Yseult sighs, looking at the paper with a combination of disgust and concern, "I've never had to face a balancing act like this before."

Malcolm sighs as he sits beside her, "I know what you mean - we've got to get this right, or it's going to be an utter mess."

"How did Maddy and Mark manage it?"

"I have no idea."

They've been poring over the seating plan for the wedding breakfast for nearly three hours - trying to make sure that no one is seated next to someone they can't stand, or that they're not on a table so far away from the top table that they feel insulted. National borders have been settled more easily.

Sal has offered to look after the event again, and given the remarkable success of the previous two that she's overseen, it's an offer that they have been keen to accept. She can't, however, work out where people are going to be seated. Similarly, Ninette has banned them from the decoration of the orchard, and each of them are to be fitted with something new to wear. All they have to do is decide who gets invited, and who comes to the party later on. Another task of truly terrifying diplomatic proportions.

At least they've sorted out the most important issues - Pete is giving Yseult away; and to the surprise of both parties, Malcolm has turned to Jim to stand with him. There would've been a time when he would've asked Rob - before Rob tried to kill him, that is. Thanks to their history, there's no one else in the Colony who knows Malcolm as well as Jim does. The only alternatives are work colleagues with whom he gets on; and that's not really the point of a Best Man.

As with Maddy and Mark, they're keeping numbers relatively small, though it seems to Malcolm that this is probably because he's only got work colleagues to invite, and they don't view him in the same light that Yseult's team view her. It would look very oddly unbalanced otherwise. Even though he has lost a lot of the more annoying traits that drove people away from him, people still tend to view him as a bit stuck up, and it's taking a while for him to overcome it.

At length, they have something that they feel is likely to please everyone - or, at least, not offend people too much, "I'll take this to Ninette tomorrow." Yseult says, rubbing at her tired eyes, "She's got someone who's going to do place cards. Honestly, I think we'd be lost without her - she's going to have to set up as the Colony's wedding planner at this rate. If it wasn't for her, we'd be in an utter mess."

"Not really." Malcolm muses, "I would've happily settled for a quick ceremony in front of Commander Taylor if need be - but I can't complain about this - I wanted to make a clear commitment to you, and this'll certainly do that."

She glares at him, though not seriously, "There is no way I'd accept an unromantic set of 'I wills' in front of Commander Taylor."

He laughs, "I'm well aware of that - I wouldn't dare mention it with any seriousness. I'm just the support act, after all. When are you visiting Ninette for your fitting?"

"Tomorrow afternoon. I have absolutely no idea what she's made for me - she wants it to be a surprise on as many fronts as possible. And you're banned from seeing it until I walk up the aisle."

"That'll be difficult if I'm here when you're getting dressed."

"Don't be silly. You'll be at the Shannons' house."

Matters progress with astonishing ease, as the organisation is in the hands of others. Sitting at his workstation, Malcolm feels rather redundant; except for one thought that keeps going around in his head: I'm getting married in two days' time. If he were younger, he might've considered having a stag night, but he has begged Jim not to arrange one, partly because he doesn't feel it's appropriate at his age, but mostly because he's terrified that Jim will do something to stitch him up. He has already had one nightmare about waking up with only one eyebrow - though better that than being buried in scorpions. He hasn't had that particular dream for months, and he's grateful for it.

Now that it's so close, the nerves are starting to set in. He doesn't regret his decision, not for a moment, but with everything out of his hands, he lacks a sense of control over what will happen on the day. Ninette has issued Jim with a strict set of instructions, but otherwise he has no idea what to expect, and that is something to which he is resolutely unused.

Yseult also seems nervous - or at least he thinks so. She was very quiet this morning over breakfast, so he decides, when he gets home later, to see if she's alright. Tomorrow, he will be decamping to Jim's. Josh is spending that night at the Tate's house to make room for him, while Ninette, and a few other of Yseult's friends will spend the evening pampering her and making sure she gets a good night's rest before the big day.

She's at home when he gets in, looking pensive. Concerned, he joins her on the couch, "What is it?"

"You didn't hear me in the night?" she asks, quietly.

He shakes his head, "I'm sorry, no; if you had a bad dream, why didn't you wake me?"

"I'm wishing that I had - but it seemed unfair to do it when you were still asleep. I must've coincided with a deep phase in your sleep cycle."

"What happened?"

"I had a nightmare about Mike." She admits, quietly, "He killed you."

Malcolm's eyes widen, and he quickly slips his arms around her, "Oh, Max. I'm sorry. I wish I'd woken up."

"I want to go to his grave." She says, suddenly.

"Pardon?"

"I think we need to confront him. And I need to visit Niall, too."

For the first time, he doesn't stiffen at the mention of his predecessor's name, "Do you want to go now?"

"I think so. Before I chicken out."

To most who see them, they look like they're out for an early evening walk, as they share their now-habitual closeness. Somehow, they've perfected the art of being astonishingly close together when walking, but not tripping each other up. People nod greetings as they pass, while others further away wave. In two days' time, they'll be the absolute centre of attention in the Colony; this is just the run-up. It's also something else that Malcolm is utterly unused to. Most people tend to gloss over him - he's there, but of no interest.

The two graves they intend to visit are at opposite ends of Memorial Field. Mike has been buried in the same corner as Lucas, and Andrew Fickett also lies here, too. The place where those who are absolutely unlamented are condemned to spend eternity. She stands over the grassy spot, marked only with a simple square stone so that people don't accidentally dig up the same place in future years.

"I trusted you, Mike." Yseult says, quietly, "I thought you were my friend, and you betrayed that trust. You tried to take Malcolm from me, and I want you to know that I will always be grateful that you failed. But that's it. You are nothing to me now; nothing at all. Tomorrow, I'll be spending time with my friends as I get ready to marry the man that I love. You failed - and this is the last time that I will ever think about you, or remember you. I am not responsible for what you tried to do, and I'm not responsible for your death. There are no goodbyes. You have no place in my life, and I won't let you sneak in and try to take up residence. This is the one and only time I will stand at your graveside. I won't ever be back."

She squeezes Malcolm's hand, and he smiles at her as they walk away. He is, to be honest with himself, far less keen to visit the other grave - but the last time he threw a stupid tantrum over Niall, he nearly lost her.

"Come on." She says, "I want you to hear this, too."

Niall's grave is far better placed, and the marker here is much finer - a well ground granite. Yseult has lot count of the times she's been up here, but today is the last time. She needs to move on, and she knows he'll understand.

"Hi Niall," she says, "I want to introduce you to Malcolm - he's the man who picked me up and reminded me how precious it is to be loved, and the day after tomorrow, he'll be my husband. I won't ever forget the times we shared; they're a part of me and they always will be - but I think we both know it's time for me to move on. You always used to tell me that the one thing you didn't want was to leave me to spend the rest of my days in widow's weeds if you died. I thought you were being morbid, or just joking; but now I realise what you meant. Thank you for loving me - I'll always have that in my heart. But it's time to say goodbye, and start living the rest of my life." She kisses the tips of her fingers, and presses them to the headstone; then turns to Malcolm, "Let's go home."

"You don't have to do that, Max." He says, as they walk away, "I would never object to you going up there on Commemoration day, or on the anniversary."

"I know - but if I keep hanging on, then I'll always have that holding on to me: I need to make a clean break. Maybe in a few years I'll do that - but right now, I want to concentrate on my life with you."

He smiles at her, "I love you." Hugging together, they turn and head for home.


Malcolm wakes and looks about, bemused. For one, he is in a single bed; for the other, the room is utterly unfamiliar. Which it would be, being Josh Shannon's.

He has no hangover, and a rather tentative exploration with his fingertips reveals that he still has both eyebrows, much to his relief. While he is quite certain that Jim would not deliberately humiliate him on his wedding day, he can't quite believe that there won't be at least one prank.

Then he pauses.

Wedding day.

He sits up, and looks across at the simple linen suit that Ninette has made for him. He's not fool enough to think that it was done for his benefit - Ninette wants Yseult's day to be as perfect as possible, and thus the groom must complement the bride. Lord, that's the worst thing about all of this; he won't see her until Pete walks her up the aisle. How ridiculous is that? He's spent one night without her, and only for the sake of tradition, and even now he's missing her.

Feeling distinctly uncomfortable in an unfamiliar house, he looks out of the room to find no one around. There wouldn't be - Elisabeth, mindful of his dignity, has gone to stay with friends, taking Zoe with her, so it's just him - and her husband. God, didn't someone make a comedy about two men rattling around a house? What was it called? He can't remember.

Rather than risk ruining the suit by spilling coffee on it, he pulls a shirt and cargo pants out of the bag he brought with him and dresses in that for the time being. He has no idea where anything is in this house, and he is still looking for something to make a hot drink when Jim emerges, "Try the next one on the left. Elisabeth got some coffee in."

The pair sit with their drinks, and Jim looks across at him, "Ready?"

Malcolm nods, "I've been ready for months - I just wasn't ready to ask her." He looks at the clock, "I think I might go and see how Sal's getting on."

"If Ninette sees you wandering around, she'll think you're trying to catch a glimpse. She'll skin you." Jim warns.

"Perhaps; but given that everyone's in control of all of this except me, I'm finding it a bit hard not to be climbing the walls at the moment." He admits, "I'm not used to that."

"Fine." Jim swallows the last of his coffee, "Come on - if you're with me, I might be able to stem the flow of French invective."

The air is mild as they emerge, walking together along the gravel path up to the marketplace. Now that he has effectively made peace with his version of the man he thought Malcolm was, Jim has no difficulties sharing his company, and their conversation is convivial. From a distance, it's clear that work is already underway at the bar, and Sal sees them coming. Surprisingly, she hastens over to stop them rather than waving, "Ninette's in there, Jim. I think you two should head in any direction that's not the Bar or your house, Malcolm. She'll give you hell if you go and look."

"Oh, great," Malcolm frets, "I'm not even allowed to see the bar?"

"No. Sorry!" Sal is grinning, "Don't worry. You'll like it - and Max will love it."

He smiles then, "Even if people want to wind me up, they'd never do that to her. I'll leave you to it."

"Good idea."

Instead, they turn away and walk back through the residential areas in a large loop that will give them some air, keep Malcolm from going stir crazy, and stop them from accidentally running into anyone associated with the bride.

"I still remember the look on your face when Elisabeth introduced us." Jim says, as they stroll.

"I imagine it was a picture." Malcolm admits, "I was a bit taken aback to see you - I thought you were a dead man walking. I'm sorry."

"We're past that, Malcolm. These days, I'm more inclined to be grateful that you paved the way for us all to get out of that dying world and into this one." He cocks an eyebrow, "However murky your motives were."

Malcolm shakes his head, "She never loved me the way she loves you. Even I could see that - I can see that even more now that I have Max. I know I came across as behaving like I had no idea she'd come through, but that was because I didn't want her to know that I'd recruited her - not at that point, at least - because she would've thought I had an ulterior motive. Even if I had attempted some sort of campaign to win her over, it would never've worked - no matter whether you were there or not. She would've accepted friendship from me, but nothing more. Our relationship was in the past, and it was pretty obvious that it was destined to stay there. What mattered at that point was her expertise - we needed her, and I thought it would be a new start for her, Maddy and Josh given that you were in Golad - and after what happened to my father in Barlinnie, I really thought you wouldn't make it to the end of your sentence. I didn't know about Zoe."

"Barlinnie?" Jim asks. While he knows some of Malcolm's past, the name is unfamiliar.

"It's a prison near Glasgow, Jim."

"Your father was in prison?" Jim opts to keep up the pretence that he doesn't know about Malcolm's father's fate.

"The Edinburgh hearings - remember? I mentioned them to you and Commander Taylor once, didn't I? He was indicted for sedition and imprisoned. He died there."

"Your father was Scottish?"

"So was I, once."

"You were? Well - that explains the accent."

"Pardon?"

"When we were in the Badlands, you were hallucinating - and you were talking to me in a Scottish accent."

"I was? Bloody hell, I didn't realise I could still do that. I don't think I could do it now if you paid me."

He seems not to want to divulge any further information, and Jim opts not to push it, as he already knows. Instead they return to Jim's house, and he dispatches Malcolm off to shower and change, while he gathers together the bits and pieces that he, as Best Man, will need.

"Rings. Check. Speech. Check…"

As noon hoves into view, the pair are ready. Jim has not been given anything specific to wear, so he has rooted out the smartest clothing he has - effectively his 'father of the bride' suit, without the tie as Ninette has decreed that they are not required; though why the hell she didn't for Maddy's wedding, he has no idea. Malcolm looks very dapper in his linen suit, a crisp white shirt under the pale cream jacket. One of the cobblers has made him a decent pair of oxfords, as he can't really get married in his heavy walking boots.

"Ready?" Jim asks him again.

"God, yes. Let's get out there."

Taylor is already present when they arrive in the clearing, and his expression as Malcolm looks about at the decoration in astonishment seems almost paternal. Like most people, he is deeply fond of Yseult, and the fact that she is finally marrying the man who makes her so utterly happy goes some way to compensating him for his own losses in that department. He knows what it is to love someone - even if he lost her - and no matter how much he regrets not taking up with Wash, the fact that he was privileged to spend a portion of his life in her company is at least something.

As with Maddy's wedding, there are swags of linen across the aisle, tied between the outstretched branches of the trees. They've been decorated with some sort of Nordic or Germanic design in a bronze-coloured paint, while at the far end, the arbour has been resurrected, and the wicker arch is alive with early roses. The Chaplain is standing ready, white tippet over his sober suit again, and people are gathering. Over in the corner, the folk band is playing a simple shaker song.

"I can't believe this is happening." Malcolm murmurs, nervously.

"Don't you dare even think about running."

"Are you kidding? This is incredible. I'd say it was like a dream, but that would sound unremittingly mushy, so I won't."

"I'll go with that."

Ninette's appearance is the first hint they have that Yseult has arrived, in much the same fashion as Maddy did, aboard a converted flat-bed rhino. As she comes in, however, her dress is entirely different - Ninette and Jacinta, it seems, have singularly pushed the boat out this time. Her dress is a long, full skirted affair of cream cotton that is carefully cinched in at her waist with elaborate lacing, and long flowing sleeves that give her the look of a nordic princess. Her hair has been carefully plaited, and she is crowned with a garland of summer flowers. It's not only Malcolm who stares at her as she makes her way up the aisle.

"Oh, my God, you're wonderful." He whispers, unable to stop himself.

"Thank you. So are you." She smiles back.

The Chaplain's greeting is simple, and perhaps a touch perfunctory given that only the Bride professes to any particular faith. No one makes a sound as he asks if anyone knows of any reason why the couple should not marry; though Malcolm feels Yseult tense slightly as though she imagines that Mike will rise up from his grave and interrupt the silence. Like Mark and Maddy before them, they have eschewed the traditional vows, and Malcolm faces Yseult, taking her hands in his.

"I never thought this day would come," he begins, a little nervously, "I suppose I'd got used to being alone. Until that day in the labs when you first called me by name, I think I'd become so convinced that there wasn't anyone out there for me that I'd more or less decided that I preferred it that way. I suppose that was why I took so long to get up the nerve to even think about asking you out - even though I kept on bottling out until that moment when you smudged soot all over my face."

He pauses at a ripple of amusement from the congregation.

"When I made it my mission in life to come to Terra Nova," he continues, "I didn't imagine for a moment that I'd find someone to share that life with. And then I found you. Even now, I still have to pinch myself from time to time to prove to myself that I'm not dreaming - but after everything that's happened in the last year, I know one thing: you're my safe haven, a rock of stability and love that kept me from being swept away. All I want is to be with you, to be your husband - and live the rest of my life at your side. I promise that I will give you the whole of my heart, that I will stand with you through the good times and the bad, because I don't think I could live without you."

For a moment, they stand in silence, as though lost in that moment, before Yseult picks up.

"When I came to Terra Nova, I was embarking on a new life with my husband, and taking my first steps into a clean, new world. We shared the wonder of the stars in the night sky, an existence free of rebreathers and choking smog. When Niall died, I really thought my life was over. And then I found you.

"I'd given up hoping that I'd get back that sense of close partnership with a loved one, but I was just marking time, because you gave it back to me. I can share all the wonders that this incredible place has to offer us, a new life in a new world. So I promise you that I'll give you the whole of my heart, and I will stand with you in the good times and the bad. I want to be your wife, because I love you with that whole of my heart; and, if you couldn't bear to live without me, then I know that I couldn't bear to live without you."

Once again, they seem lost in each other. Shuffling slightly, Jim is aware of a startling number of sniffs and honks into tissues. He is almost wishing he had a tissue to hand himself.

Their promises made, Malcolm and Yseult exchange the rings: two elaborately wound miniature ropes of gold wire that must've taken Sozume weeks to perfect. It's true - Yseult is extraordinarily popular. Malcolm knows full well that no one would be so determined to provide such wonderful things for him. Not that he minds: they might love her - but nothing like as much as he does.

And then the Chaplain is inviting him to kiss his new wife. As though he needs prompting, dammit. Somewhere, off in the distance, he can hear people cheering - but for him, right now, there's not another person in the whole world.


The reason for his being banned from the bar becomes clear to Malcolm almost at once, as they arrive aboard the rhino to be greeted with applause from everyone who couldn't be at the ceremony. The 'germanic' look has continued here - and it looks as though Ninette has tried very, very hard to make the place look like Valhalla. There are rumours that Julia has actually managed to find wild honey, and thus has concocted some mead - though he'll believe that when he sees it.

"Is there a Nordic goddess of love?" He asks Yseult, clutching her hand tightly.

She nods, "She's called Freyja." Her smile becomes a touch wicked, "She's also the Norse Goddess of sex."

"Maybe later."

"Definitely later. We've got a marriage to consummate." She laughs as he reddens, "Look at that - even the cake's got runes on it. I bet they don't make any sense."

"You can read runes?"

"I didn't just bash metal for my degree, Malcolm. Norse culture was one of my study fields - I learned to read runes as part of my Masters." She checks them, "Actually they do."

"They do?"

"Someone's got that from the Eye - they must've done. Yes, they have - they're from the Bergen Rúnakefli."

"Can you translate them?"

"Naturally." She smiles, smugly, "That one says ost min kis mik - which means 'My love, kiss me; while that one there says mun þumik man fik un þu mer an ekþ, which means 'Remember me, I remember you; love me, I love you.'"

"What was that first one again?" Malcolm asks, "Hang on, I remember." holding her tightly, he kisses her.

As with the wedding itself, the celebrations are a success. The rumours about the mead turn out to be true, and Julia has surpassed herself with the quality. Fortunately there's not that much, so no one has got drunk and made a fool of themselves. Pete, standing in for the Father of the Bride, has given a speech that is surprisingly lacking in his usual brand of sarcastic foolery, and instead serves to highlight to everyone just how much she matters to those on her team. He squeezes her hand as he finishes off with a very audible lump in his throat, and sits down to delighted applause.

Malcolm can't help but feel a sense of nerves as Jim rises to his feet to do the honours as the best man. So far, as he promised, he has done nothing to humiliate, or even mildly embarrass, the groom; and Malcolm is fervently hoping that he'll keep it that way. After ten minutes, which cover pathogen-induced amnesia and thinking that an ovosaur was an ugly dog, disassembling the research labs to persuade him to sample a beaker of paint sealant and various other mishaps of an amusing nature, Jim wraps it up with a surprisingly sincere coda covering his own change of view of the man sitting beside him - his bravery during the occupation, the love he so clearly has for his new wife, and the fact that he himself has had a large number of scales fall from his eyes in the years since he arrived in Terra Nova, finishing on a solid wish for their happiness together - and a bright future in a new world. The last thing he does before taking his seat is invite all present to show their appreciation to the groom, and the volume of the applause is surprisingly heartwarming.

"See?" Yseult whispers, as he tries to clear something of a lump from his throat, "They love you after all. But not as much as I do."

As the party continues into the night, most of the Colony has turned out to enjoy the balmy air and the music. For those who haven't eaten, the food vendors are still at work, and everyone is clearly having a magnificent time. Despite the jauntiness of the music, however, the couple in the middle of the throng seem not to notice - entirely lost in one another.

"I never thought this would ever happen to me." Malcolm admits, "I assumed I'd be single for the rest of my life."

"A man as good looking as you?" Yseult smiles at him, "I don't think so. But then, if anyone had muscled in, I would have had to scratch their eyes out."

"You're a Norse Goddess, after all. How could I dare refuse?"

"Ah yes - Norse Goddess of Love, I think it was. I'm looking forward to proving that later on; hopefully not too much later. I want to trick Pete or Louis into catching my bouquet. There's nothing in Terra Nova's constitution that says they can't marry, after all."

"Good point. Do you want to set that up? I can ask Jim to do the honours if you like."

"That would be great - except I don't want to let go of you."

"He's over there. I can wave."

"That'll do nicely."

There is no need to persuade Pete to join the throng of women hoping to catch the bouquet - he's quite brazen enough to do it as a joke, and would probably have done it even if he didn't have Louis. Yseult knows her friend well, and is fully aware that he would try to catch the bouquet for real even if she wasn't going to stitch him up. Smiling, she faces them, taking care to hide the fact that she's checking his position, "Are you all ready?"

"Get on with it, woman!" Pete's voice rises above the hubbub as she turns her back.

"One!" everyone joins in with the count.

"Two!" the group tense, each with their own intention for that bouquet.

"Three!" she swings the bouquet over her head, hoping that she's got her aim right. Just as they did with her, the group of combatants step aside, leaving Pete the sole target, and the flowers land squarely in his arms. Despite himself, he stares at them, much as she did when Maddy pulled the same stunt with her.

"There. Stop dithering, Pete." She grins at him, "What's the worst that could happen?"

For once, he is silenced.

The thump of the music is still faintly audible as Malcolm pushes the door open. It's not easy, as he has Yseult in his arms, her shoes in her hands, "Welcome home, Mrs Wallace."

She smiles at him happily, "Welcome home Mr Ingersleben."

"That's one heck of a maiden name, Max."

"I know. I think I'll stick with Wallace." Yseult traces her fingertip along the line of his jaw, "Now, what was that about Norse Goddesses?"

Holding her close, he kisses her, and carries her to the bedroom.


"How long have you been like this, Max?" Elisabeth asks, as Yseult sits in the office chair and looks a little wan, Malcolm standing worriedly over her.

"A couple of days, I think. I haven't been quite right since the wedding." She admits, "I hope I didn't eat something that hasn't agreed with me."

"I doubt that. If you had, then other people would also be presenting symptoms. Have you noticed anything else?"

"Not really - I suppose I'm rather tired, but that's probably because we've been so busy with the wedding."

"When was your last period?"

"I can't remember - I haven't been keeping tabs on that because I'm not regular; I never have been. I was just relieved that it didn't clash with the wedding."

Elisabeth raises her eyebrows - even now she doesn't get it? From Malcolm's expression, on the other hand, she suspects that he's figured it out. Finally, her plex beeps and she checks the results of the blood test: Positive.

"Sorry Max - but this is going to be a fixture of your life for a few more weeks yet."

"It is?" She looks horrified, "Food poisoning doesn't last that long does it?"

Then she understands - Yseult has become so used to not conceiving on a monthly basis, that she's largely given up expecting it to happen. Now that it has, she seems not to be taking it in.

"No - but your pregnancy sickness is likely to last until the end of the first trimester. You're pregnant, Max - I'd say about six weeks along or so." Elisabeth smiles, "Congratulations."

"I am?" her expression is one almost of disbelief. It's taken so long…

Elisabeth nods, unable to speak.

Shaking, Yseult stands up, and turns to Malcolm, who is watching her with glistening eyes, "It's happening." She whispers, "It's really happening."

He wraps his arms about her, "Yes, Max. It really is."