Chapter 10_53

AN: I can't apologize enough for taking this long. My life currently sucks on almost every level, but finally I found the time and re-discovered the therapeutic quality of writing – and here is the next chapter. Admittedly, if you had read the separate story Forgiving I had posted three years ago, you'll find this very familiar, though I changed a few things and passages, tried to "de-kitsch" it at least a little. I found it hard, not always being able to find the right english word for stuff I wanted to say.

Anyway, I'm afraid there's not much of a story in this one, but since some make-ups were necessary, I hope you'll still like it.

Also, thanks for the last reviews, I'm really glad there still are new readers, and readers who have stayed with me for so long, warms my heart :) Please keep commenting, pointing out, criticising so I can improve.

Forgivings Part 2

When they arrived in front of Giles' flat, Helen, although excited, felt a little uneasy. She got out of the car and walked the staircase leading up to the house, with Giles close behind her. She wished he had said something, about how he had been, what he thought of everything she had told him few minutes ago. She paused when she reached the top step and suddenly turned around. She hadn't realized he was walking so close behind her, and before she managed to say anything he pulled her even closer and pressed a kiss on her lips. As she was standing one step higher than him their faces were almost the same level now, and when she broke off she could look directly into his hazel eyes. Not only were they making her heart beat faster again, their look also could easily top the effects of the strongest confundus charm. She momentarily forgot what had been on her mind just a few seconds ago.

He raised his brows just a little, and came up the last step. "Something wrong?" He asked with an airiness in his voice that she couldn't remember ever hearing before.

She turned away and motioned towards the door of his apartment. He followed her, his hand on her back. She watched his gentle long fingers while he was unlocking the door, and even this trivial action suddenly made her excited and filled her with a sense of relief and gratitude – his hands opening the door for her once again, letting her in – into his flat, back into his life.

"Could you just... say something?" She blurted out when they were inside and he had helped her out of her coat. She turned around and looked at him anxiously. "Anything... about... how you feel... are you really alright?" She grasped the lapels of his jacket as if to make sure he wouldn't walk away on her. "On the risk that I may spoil this evening... I'd like to know... what your thoughts are... I don't want it to hang above us for much longer, I just... I really need to know if..." Her voice trailed off.

He gave a quiet sigh. He didn't really want to go there. But then, he thought maybe it was for the best, it might be a good fresh start for them if they cleaned the air and began by talking some things over, being honest and opening up to each other. He motioned towards his sofa and they sat down.

"I-uh...," he began. It wasn't easy though, remembering those days after he had found her gone, and seeing her face now inches from his – he could still recall the anger, the disappointment and the resignation. He looked away from her at some invisible point on his coffee table. "I had thought that...," he tried again more firmly, "that we had reached a point in our-uh... relationship... where a decision like that wasn't yours alone to make anymore," he said at last, trying to sound matter-of-factly, but Helen could hear the faint trace of resentment in his voice.

He didn't want his words to hurt her. He just didn't quite know how to say what he meant, how to put the frustration into words, the feeling after she had left him that way, almost like he had been merely some one-night stand, or a summer-fling.

It was her who looked away now, feeling again ashamed.

He took her hand to make her look back at him. "I understand...," he continued. "Or-uh, well, I don't know how you felt or what it was like having those dreams... but there is my other point – I didn't know, I couldn't know because you wouldn't tell me... anything. And the notion was...", he paused in search for the right word, "haunting... that you should have been hiding, that you were at all able to conceal all those things from me for days, weeks apparently, and that I didn't see... It's hard to tell who it was that I was more angry with at some point – you for leaving or me for not noticing." He laughed shortly, and she could tell that thought was still hurting him. "But-but leaving... that wasn't just your decision to make," he said again shaking his head emphatically, but then, to lighten the atmosphere, he squeezed her hand and smiled, before moving closer and turning to face her, his eyes beaming at her over the frame of his glasses,.

"So-uh, let's make an agreement. Next time, before you do that, before you-uh... shun me, just... just talk to me, please. Don't just... leave like that..."

She was smiling at him weakly, but what he couldn't see was the sudden eruption inside her that his words had caused, of panic, of screams telling her she was still lying to him, hiding from him, concealing that one crucial piece of information - that she may be dead in a few months', or years' time. But this she wasn't ready to tell. "I am a coward. I always have been," she muttered more to herself.

"Nonsense," he whispered in her ear before she could say or do anything else, and kissed her earlobe. "I saw you fight and I don't believe that for a minute. Besides, stop dressing yourself down and making yourself miserable." And he kissed her on her lips as if to finally put a period mark behind everything. She closed her eyes and leaned into it, and when she felt his hand touching her face and wrapping his fingers around her neck it was as if everything else just fell off her.

When their lips parted, she looked him in the eyes, then stroke fondly with her hand over the thin scar crossing his forehead. "I missed you," she said after what seemed like an eternity.

He didn't say anything to that, merely raised one corner of his mouth into a knowing smile. "Are you hungry?"

"Not really," she replied. Not for food anyway, she thought as her eyes skimmed his body from top to bottom and a blush appeared on her face.

"Good." He pretended not to have noticed. "I don't think I have anything left to cook."

"Well," she grinned, "we could always order some Mexican should it come to that," she said flirtatiously.

He smiled strangely and then rose from the sofa to walk to the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" She asked, almost anxiously, the look of him walking away suddenly made her uncomfortable.

He said nothing, but took out two glasses out of a cupboard and a bottle of wine out of another, while she was closely watching his every movement. He brought them on the small coffee table, but instead of sitting down he walked away once more across the room to his record player and Helen heard him rummaging among his records and CDs for a while. When he found what he had been looking for, he put it on and turned the volume down so that the music would merely create a nice background instead of filling up the room with too much noise.

"A toast?" He asked when he sat down again and filled their glasses, his face gleaming.

"To forgiveness?" She suggested, and for a moment the talk with Henry Giles popped into her mind. But she would tell him about it later.

Giles gave a short nod, fixing her with his eyes, they clinked their glasses and took a sip.

"Once again, I'm sorry I went away, leaving you when you..." She said in what should be the final apology.

"Shh," he whispered to silence her, quickly took off his glasses at set them on the table and then – taking her quite by surprise – kissed her, putting just a little bit more passion into it than the first time. Her heart did the familiar, pleasant jolt, she responded rather hesitantly at first, kissing his lips almost carefully, as if she was to re-discover them after the long time, to explore them again, bit by bit only to find out that they felt exactly as delightful as she'd remember, even more. She let his tongue in at last.

They were kissing as if they couldn't get enough of each other; Giles was softly pushing her backwards. She flung her arms around his neck and let the glass of wine slip from her fingers. It hit the wooden floor with somewhat muffled sound, yet the noise made them both wince a little and they paused. Helen looked down to see the damage, then swallowed, slightly out of breath, and murmured: "Reparo, abstergo," and at the same time the smashed glass became a whole again and the spilt wine disappeared from the floor.

Giles looked a little bewildered from the glass back at her, wanted to say something, but this time she silenced him when she pressed another kiss on his lips, taking his face into her hands. He didn't protest, and laid his hand on her thigh, then slowly began to pick on her skirt to pull it upwards so that he could fondle her skin underneath at last. Helen meanwhile was playing with his tie and trying to unbutton his shirt without breaking the kiss. He noticed that she was struggling a little with all the layers of clothes he was wearing, so he took off his jacket at last and untied his tie.

"Thanks," she said breathless as he leant over her to kiss her neck. "Maybe we should...," she whispered heavily, "... move upstairs," she barely finished and had to close her eyes from the new wave of excitement that hit her as she felt his lips and his tongue on her collarbone. He didn't say anything, just stood up, pulling her up with him and they almost ran upstairs like two giddy teenagers.

When she stood there in front of him, in his bedroom, like a not uncommon vision from his dreams, he briefly felt a mixture of pain and an almost unearthly pleasure – the thought of how much he had been missing the real her for the past months hurt, and yet, here she was again at last, in flesh and blood... He looked her in the eyes for a brief moment, they were sparkling with delight, watching him, her lips were opened a bit, formed into a faint smile. He put his hands around her waist and she hers around his neck, then – while placing another kiss on her lips, a tender, almost careful one – he gently laid her on the bed.

Lying on her, leaning on his elbows so that he wouldn't put his whole weight on her, his fingers were stroking her ears and her cheeks, while he was lavishing gentle kisses everywhere on her forehead, her eyelids, her temples, her nose, her chin, almost as if to make sure that everything was there, that she was really here. She had her eyes closed, surrendered herself entirely to him. Every single tender touch of his lips on her face was causing waves of heat spreading inside her, and made her wish for more.

Without really realizing or thinking much her hands grabbed for his shirt and began to struggle yet again with the stubborn buttons on it. Giles heard her whisper impatiently "Recludo", that was followed by seven quick and quiet pop-sounds and he felt his shirt getting opened by some invisible force, then Helen's short disappointed, almost resigned moan, when her hands found an undershirt beneath it, instead of his bare skin that she was more and more eager to touch with every new kiss from him. He smiled to himself, then pulled back a little.

"We're not getting impatient, are we?" He asked teasingly.

She gave him a pretended annoyed glare. "No. But someone here is dressed up like he's leading a 1920ies Everest-expedition," she nagged.

Again Giles smiled amused and leant back down to appease her with a kiss. "Well, you'll just have to take your time... I hear it-uh... rises the appetite," he whispered into her ear, and Helen shivered. It was hard to not lose control.

"I could-eh... make it very-eh... quick, you know," she replied, panting. Giles furrowed his eyebrows at that choice of words a little, but didn't stop kissing her neck. "One spell... rips your clothes off, I'd-eh... mend them afterwards..."

He straightened up now, looking at her incredulously: "Now how would that be a fair play? Where would that leave me?"

"But-"

"No, absolutely not." He said in a strict tone. "Spells are forbidden."

She looked resigned, and sighed. "Ok... But if I rip apart all your shirts and undershirts and whatever more my lay underneath, don't complain. I won't flick them back together with my bare hands."

"I don't care," he whispered into her ear and began to open her blouse. The gentle touch of his fingers, working the buttons from the collar downwards were causing her a pleasant tickle, with each button he seemed to have taken a little more time to open it, thus prolonging the touch, he knew how to tease her. "By the way – what's with all the magic? And without your wand? Won't you-?" He asked suddenly, a trace of worry in his voice.

She cut him short though as she sat up, pushed him aside to switch their positions, and murmured "Later". Now he was lying on his back, a little surprised by this sudden initiative as she climbed up to sit on his thighs. She grasped for the belt on his cord trousers and began to struggle with it. It appeared to be stuck somehow, and after a few futile attempts she threw a stealthy glance at Giles, he was beaming at her. Discingo, her inner voice said in her mind, and the belt immediately loosened up. Quickly she looked at Giles whether he'd noticed anything, but it didn't seem so. She pretended to - clumsily and after an appropriate fight – have opened the belt on her own, then quickly undid the button and unzipped the trousers. She pulled his shirts out of them and Giles noticed her satisfied expression just before she placed her hands under the bothersome layers of clothes on his bare skin at last.

He felt nice, and warm, well, no wonder with all the layers wrapped around him, she thought amused. Her hands were stroking his belly, drawing tender circles upon the naked skin, slowly moving upwards, pulling the two shirts along. Without really thinking, as she was deepened in and fully enjoying the touch, her mind was already planning ahead and made the next step as it thought – pando, and there Giles' undershirt suddenly went into pieces, ripped apart in the middle, finally exposing his chest. Her eyes widened as in a happy surprise, her expression resembled a little child that was just offered a large piece of his favourite cake.

Giles now pushed himself up to his elbows and looked at her suspiciously. "Are you – by any chance – cheating? I thought we agreed on no spells," he said, only half earnest.

Only unwillingly she took her gaze away from his chest to look him in the eyes. It took her a few seconds to focus on what he's been saying too. "... Did-eh... you hear me cast a spell?" She asked trying to sound as innocent as possible.

He looked raising the right corner of his mouth, then pointed with his chin at the tattered shirt, parts of which were now lying next to him on both sides. "How then would you explain this?"

She shrugged, and smiled unconvincingly: "Ah- spontaneous rip perhaps? You know, w-with-eh... a-all the hellmouth-energy everywhere around this place... i-it's not that odd..." She made a grimace, knowing it was a pretty lame lie.

He gave her that look again, then sat up to take off what was left of his shirts. "That was one of my best shirts, I got it from London..." He said reproachfully.

"I'll fix it," she whispered, gently pushed him back to lie down, and pulled herself up a little to sit now on his lap, and bent down to kiss him. He gripped her waist and too began to pull her blouse to free it out of her skirt. When his hands finally touched her bare hips, Helen shivered from excitement, her kiss became more intense, more insisting, hungry, as if she wanted to catch up for all the lost months they had been apart. Giles' hands wandered upwards, and he pulled her closer to lie on him, to feel her whole body covering his. She moaned a little, contentedly, as she stretched out her legs that were now intertwined with his.

He reached for the clip on the back of her head that was tying her hair together and carefully took it out, then watched amazed how her hair slowly loosened and string after string began to fall down to create an auburn frame around her beautiful face. He could also perceive its familiar smell, an odd, but pleasant mixture of roses and very faint, hardly distinguishable fragrance of winter spices, like gingerbread, cinnamon, cloves and cardamom... and raisins... Again the smell immediately, like a trigger, brought back some of his best memories of the times they had spent together, their first "date" in the theatre, the first kiss on the otherwise quite disastrous Halloween night, their first time; or watching the two dragons at sunrise in a Romanian forest...

She furrowed her brows, a little confused by his fascinated look. Before she could ask however, he grasped her face with his hands, burying his fingers in her silken hair, and said: "How I missed you... Everything, always... every night and every morning... sometimes I woke up, expecting to see you deep asleep right next to me... couple of times I'd make tea for you by mistake, forgetting that-... or set two plates in the kitchen for breakfast, before I realized..." He spoke quietly, in a calm voice, without the slightest trace of reproach in it, but still every word felt like a deep sting in her chest, knowing that he had been hurting this much by her absence. "Once I woke up in the middle of the night and grabbed at my side, to pull you closer to me, and-uh... there was no one..." He smiled sadly and then as if he felt embarrassed by having said something so soppy, he laughed shortly to dismiss the words, and she felt his grip around her get tighten, he was almost pressing her against his chest, embracing her, he almost cramped her in his arms, so that she could hardly move, as if wanting to make sure that she wouldn't leave anymore now, when she finally got back.

Once more she felt the bitter taste of remorse and guilt, shame even that she had caused him all the pain. She closed her eyes for a moment and gulped.

"Oh, I'm sorry", he hurried to say, and stroked her head tenderly. "I didn't want to make you feel bad..."

She opened her eyes and gave him a tormented look.

"Well-uh... a little perhaps," he added whispering and grinned.

She looked at him suspiciously.

He raised his head slightly to whisper into her ear: "That way I can-uh... easier... take advantage of you."

Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth, pretending to be horrified. "Why Rupert! I am outraged!" She said in a flirty tone.

His hand reached around her waist at her back, his fingers gently brushing the skin underneath her open blouse. He found the zipper of her skirt and slowly opened it, while kissing her neck. Goose-bumps were spreading through her body as his hands, now under her skirt, wandered very slowly back to the front, savouring the touch of her bare skin. They were lying on their sides, facing each other. He was pulling her skirt downwards with one hand, while she was fumbling around his trousers and caught the opened belt, murmuring "You're still having too much on... exsero..."

"Hey!" Giles cried out as he suddenly found himself lying there, completely naked. "What-?!"

"Oops, sorry, sorry, I-eh... I only meant the-the trousers, but somehow m-my mind must have...," got impatient, she thought and turned pink, then in a rather superfluous attempt to make up for the mishap she whispered "stratum" and out of nothing an electric blue velvet blanket appeared to cover his naked body from his waist down.

"Now that's it!" He spoke through pressed teeth, pretending to be angry, and put on a stern face. "I don't want any more spells cast here!"

She looked at him innocently. "There's-eh... I mean they-eh... won't be needed anymore." She said in a quiet, appeasing voice as her eyes wandered over the outline of his body, and with her right hand she caressed his chest.

"You left me with a huge disadvantage here," he said with a pointed look on the clothes she was still wearing.

"Oh, I can-", she was about to magically undress herself as well, but Giles stopped her.

"Don't," he said in what sounded like an order and almost a threat at the same time. "I'd much rather do it myself."

And he did. He took his time again, slowly removing the last layers and enjoying and rediscovering every bit of her body, very much relishing the fact that all its curves and lines were exactly as he had remembered, the skin on her neck and on her stomach just as silken, soft and pale, the faint goose-bumps appearing exactly at kissing the same spots as before, her holding her breath for a moment when his hands would cruise over certain places... it was all so familiar, so well-known, and yet it couldn't give him more pleasure to let his fingers slide over her sides or his tongue retracing her hipbone and feeling her whole body mounting up in anticipation.

She wondered how long she could take it without losing her senses completely. She felt like being on fire, from his touch, from the feeling of being wanted, desired by him once more, from the notion that he had forgiven her, actually forgiven... She put her leg around him to pull him even closer to her, and could feel him getting harder.

Everything that followed Helen perceived as if in a slow-motion: He suddenly sat up a little, bent over her to kiss her once more and gently rolled her from her side to her back. She began to shiver a little as his hands ran over her legs and her thighs, very softly with each stroke pushing them slightly apart. She was now so excited that she could hardly focus on what to do herself, her hands were just clumsily fumbling over his chest and his waist. Then he sat himself over her lap, and Helen gulped dryly at feeling him so closely. He smiled at her his boyish smile that had been so rare in the past days, then took both her hands into his and carefully lifted her arms up and without letting go he began to lean over, slowly placing her arms down somewhere above her head. He placed another gentle kiss on her lips, and with one hand still holding her arms bonded together, the other hand glided over her skin. She was breathing heavily, and had to close eyes again. Without realizing she spread her legs a little more, and that was the signal for him. He slowly let go of her hands, kissed her once more, then carefully moved from her lap downwards. He then returned his hands to caress her arms that were still above her head. He kissed both her breasts and felt her again mount up under him... and then he slid into her, as carefully and as gently as he could. He saw her wince a little, furrow her brows and press her lips together at the initial, short moment of pain caused by her tightness. He held still and pressed a soothing kiss on her lips, and when she responded, opening her mouth and kissing him back with passion, and finally lifted her waist against his, he slowly began to move, filling her out with every thrust. Soon they would find their perfect, synchronized rhythm, not too fast, not too fierce, to savour this long desired union.

They came together, a quiet gasp escaped her lips, before she took his face into her hands, managed to raise her head a little to put together their foreheads and, still a little shaky and gulping, she rubbed her nose against his softly, to calm down the breath. With his fingers he fondly stroke her cheeks, feeling her hot breath on his lips before kissing her.

For a while they were lying in each other's arms, then as he sensed his weight was becoming too much for her he rolled over, turned her to her side and took her in his arms to lie in their usual spoon position, where her head was resting in the curve between his collarbone and his chin as if it had always belonged there. She sensed his calm, regular breaths in her hair, he pulled his arms closer around her and eventually they fell asleep.

It was after midnight when they both woke up and made love yet again.

"I think I could bear a small supper," she said afterwards, entirely exhausted, but happy. Giles kissed her passionately and Helen giggled. "That's-eh... not quite what I meant... not that I mind..."

He glared at her, then gently flicked her nose. "I don't have much left," he said while getting up. He put on his bathrobe. "But there might be some grapes and some cheese in the fridge."

Helen shrugged, then crawled out of the bed herself. She looked around for a shirt of Giles' that she could put on, but there were only the shreds left after her spell. Her face flushed, then she grabbed the blue velvet blanket and tucked herself into it before following him downstairs.

While she prepared a large plate of canapés made of what she could find in his fridge, Giles changed the record in his record player, causing her smile as she heard the first bars of Satie's La belle excentrique. He turned the volume down a little, then moved to the fireplace to light a fire as the wide living room was quite cold at this hour.

They sat down in front of the fire, and helped themselves to the food while talking about all that had been going on in their lives during the past months they hadn't shared. When they banished the hunger and drank one or two glasses of wine, again they fell into each other's arms, making love again, each trying to spoil the other with as much pleasure as possible.

Some time later they were lying on the floor in almost total darkness. The fire from the fireplace must have gone out, so that the only light was a strip of the moonlight coming in between the heavy curtains. They were simply staring at the ceiling, dreamy smiles on their faces, holding their hands, in a total bliss.

Suddenly she turned her head at him, murmured "Lumos" and a tiny flame turned up, floating in the space above their heads, then a mischievous smile appeared on her face as she got an idea: "I have a surprise for you too." She hadn't told him yet that she got her magic all back. She had talked about Márkos before on their way back from the theatre and how he had convinced her that she had been a fool when she had left Sunnydale, but she hadn't come to mention that Márkos has also made her an even stronger witch than before that unfortunate ritual, that now she could cast spells beyond imagination and more importantly – without messing with her condition: no nosebleeds, no dizziness, no circulation-issues. And she wanted to show him – for she clearly also regained some of her former self-assurance and the sheepish need to show off just a little bit.

Giles looked at her curiously. She got up, took his hand and pulled him up too, then tucked them both in the conjured blue blanket. "Take my hands and hold firm, it might feel strange, but just... don't let go," she said with a bit of excitement in her voice. Giles raised his brows, a little puzzled, wondering what she was up to. For a short moment she bit her lip and appeared to be thinking. "But where to, where to...," she murmured, and after few seconds she shrugged as she made her choice. "Oh, right. That should be as good a place as any. It's dark anyway so it doesn't really matter."

Giles didn't understand any of her ramblings, when she grasped his hands more firmly saying: "Ready? I bet you've never stood there..." She added impishly and when he nodded hesitantly, she squeezed his hands and made a quick movement that Giles didn't get to see clearly anymore, because all of a sudden the space around them began to dissolve very fast, it felt as if he was flying with the superluminal speed. He felt all his inner organs getting mixed up inside him and whirled together, but fortunately just before he thought he would be sick, the space began to form itself back into shape... and a strangely familiar one.

They stopped, suddenly standing in broad daylight, blinking. He looked around him, his eyes widened as he took in their surroundings. True, his mind was slowly focusing on where they were, I never stood here... oh lord... Petrified and with his mouth opened in amazement he was staring towards the large iron gate that he knew well, though not from this side of it. Behind it, some thirty yards away, dozens of people were assembled, all pressing hastily the triggers of their cameras. Yet before he could express his concern aloud, he heard her curse: "Merlin's pants! What the-.. Uh-ooh..."

"Bloody... I completely forgot it'd be noon here," she said desperately, covering her mouth in horror, then quickly recovered from the first shock and the terrible mistake, muttered "sorry," and grasped his hands tightly once more, turning on the spot. They disapparated again.

"Kingsley is going to kill me," Helen sighed as they landed while Giles was trying to regain his balance. "Oh, well, maybe no one's noticed..."

It was still very early, but they decided to stay up. Giles wanted to return to the library early in the morning in order to continue the research concerning the Daih-rah demons. So during breakfast Helen told him about how Márkos had trained and how he, in a weeklong exercise, helped her to get a grip on her powers again. To her amusement she found Giles becoming just a little bit jealous of the old man.

"He-uh...," he began, and took off his glasses to clean them after breakfast was over, "seems to be a-ah... great influence on you," he said, and she sensed a discomfort in his perceptibly colder voice.

She bit her cheeks to suppress a smile. "He is," she said with as much sincerity as she managed. "There's probably no one else on this earth that would make me do things that he does..." Giles' eyes shot up at her, his expression clearly perturbed. She continued: "... like... waiting on tables, serving beer, or tidying up guestrooms and changing bed sheets for complete strangers...," she frowned herself now, "ok, that last part, admittedly, doesn't sound very favourable."

She withstood his baffled look as he still wasn't sure what to make of it, before bursting into a cheerful laughter. "I'm sorry," she said between its fits, "I'm s-sorry... please forgive me," she repeated as she calmed down. "I just... to think that you would be jealous of Márkos of all people..."

"I'm not jealous," he said somewhat indignantly.

"Of course not," she said mockingly.

"I just..." hope he is an ugly old man, covered with warts and wearing a smelly pointed hat full of motts, it shot through his mind and for a split of a second he himself was shocked by the strong aversion he suddenly felt towards the man.

"Anyhow, Márkos is a great wizard, with unrivalled skills in magic, and he is beyond wise," she said more seriously, and seeing that Giles raised his brows wondering how exactly these words were supposed to reassure him, she hurried to finish: "But he's also a terrible human being, with no social skills, no consideration for other people's feelings, no tact whatsoever... A little like Cordelia actually," she said, surprised herself by the accuracy of the comparison.

London

Later that day, sitting in his wide office at the British Museum, sipping his tea, Henry Giles was having the best day in a long time. He was smiling, no, beaming actually, every now and then his look would wander back to the evening papers on his desk. There lie several issues: London Evening Standard, The Evening Times and Telegraph, The Evening Express, even the Edinburgh Evening News that his secretary brought in only few minutes ago. On the cover of each was a photograph of the Buckingham Palace, taken earlier that day. It was changing-of-the-guards-time, many tourists were assembled at the gate to watch the spectacle, ready to capture it with their cameras. The forecourt was full with tall figures of the guards dressed in red and black. But it was the thing in the background that was causing the cheerful expression on Mr. Giles' face and his extraordinarily bright mood: There standing on the quite famous balcony at the front facade of the palace, covered quite sparely with nothing but a blue blanket, were two people holding hands tightly, a couple – a tall man of middle age looking a little bewildered, and a younger woman with long auburn hair and a horrified expression. Everywhere, but in the Times edition. For what felt like the hundredth time Henry pulled out the latter paper, on which Helen was smiling contently, her expression – so he construed it – bearing the notion of achievement. In more than one sense, apparently, he chuckled, tapping with his finger on the photograph and the blue blanket on it they were tucked in.

The grey-haired old man shook his head once again in an amused disbelief and said to himself: "So, it seems like he'd forgiven her after all." A long, content sigh escaped him. "Well, how about that." Maybe now it is my turn?

AN: Thank you for reading, please, do leave a comment, on anything you like or don't like, let me know how it reads.