So here's a new little nugget. Not much in the way of moving my plot, but a nice little stop on the countryside. I felt an undying urge to make them more than combatants, parents, and dramatic figures. To make a love affair real, alas, you must have a love affair. More than declarations! J Hope ya enjoy!

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I was sad to see Hannah have to go the next day after her appointment. No matter how tenuous it was, I had a real connection with her now. Not just that I gave birth so many years before, but one where we shared likes and dislikes, hopes and dreams. However, if I was honest, I was worn out from all the tension.

That evening I went home with the intention of hours upon hours of sleep. I had a fresh box of bath powder, a brand new book that was, for once, not about babies, and a "Do Not Disturb" sign permanently etched on my face. Oh yeah, and a box of chicken. With Tabasco. And brownies. What? I was pregnant! But when I made it to my room, it appeared like there was a whole new plan.

My room was lit up with the lights of soft, white candles. There were trails of daisies, all leading to a massive mural of pictures of me and George. It was all like a little too much after the past couple of days.

He came smiling in the room. Sadly, my tears turned it almost immediately to a frown.

"What's wrong, Izzie?"

"You" sob "are so" sob "good to me!"

I leaned against him and cried it out. All of my hormones, sadness, and frustration spilled out on his shoulder. He was so good, when I didn't feel like I was good at all. For God's sake, he made a mural! He brought me daisies, and candles, and I was crying!

"We don't have to do this now. I thought you just might need a pick me up after everything with Hannah…"

"But what about you, George? What do you need? You bring me romance, and food, and I cry! That is not the proper response!"

"It's okay because you're…"

"Pregnant? That can't be my excuse all the time. I trample on Callie, and you, and you…you do this! Believe me when I say it is beautiful, but what about you? What do you get?"

"I get you."

"No, you get pieces of me. You get to back me up, defend me, feed me, but I don't feel like I'm giving you much at all."

He looked at me long and serious.

"So what do you mean?"

All of a sudden, I felt warm and electric like I had not in months. Forget a bath and a book, I think I needed this. I leaned towards him to capture his lips.

"Let me make love to you."

"Are you sure? You're upset. You don't have to. Pieces are good. Pieces are better than nothing…"

I kissed him again.

"Shut up George. There are some pieces I want right now, but they do not involve talking."

Nothing more needed to be said.

We made love like we hadn't in a while. It was all lights, and sounds, and wonder. For the first time, In a long time, I felt like I was giving.

Giving felt very, very good.

In the afterglow, we returned to that former George and Izzie. We shared quiet jokes, and stories, and laughed when our baby moved as George tickled my belly. Later, we rested our heads without worry.

And in the still, I watched as he snored and smiled. I curled deeper into him.

It hit me suddenly that I wouldn't ever really need to rely on bath powders, or books to make things better.

When things became hard, we could lean in to one another. We could be happy equals, and not need more. I was wasting precious moments worrying otherwise.

Now I fell deep asleep, snoring and smiling, never knowing that he was awake and watching me.