Being a patient, especially when one was a nurse, was particularly tiresome, Delia mused. Everything seemed to more at a literal snail's pace.

She sat on a hard plastic chair as she waited for her name to be called.

Several other patients sat alongside her, most of them elderly - coughing and wheezing. Evidence of a hard hitting winter, clearly. A little boy with a huge plaster cast had been sick on his mother's lap and she was trying her best to clean up the mess with her cardigan sleeve.

Yes, it was certainly much more exciting being a nurse.

She observed the blue blurs of nurses scuttling around, almost like ant workers, carrying files and ferrying patients form A to B. It was odd to stop and watch the frantic activity. She suddenly felt an overwhelming sensation of uselessness. Like she should be doing something, anything, to help them. It was clear the X-ray department was busy, but despite Delia offering to come back later, they assured her she wouldn't have to wait more than half an hour.

That was over an hour ago.

Delia huffed and tried to focus her mind on something else. There were several women's realm magazines on the table in front of her, but reading one handed wasn't likely to be the easiest task, so she abandoned that idea. Patsy had been unable to attend the appointment with her. Much to the redhead's dismay, Sister Julienne had insisted she pick up Delia's district patients for that morning. Unable to think up a reasonable excuse, Patsy had bid Delia farewell after breakfast, with the promise of catching up later that afternoon.

"Miss Busby?" came a sharp bark.

Delia looked up and made eye contact with the source of the noise.

A middle aged woman with an especially intricate silver belt buckle stared back down her thin nose. If her lips pursed any more, Delia thought, they'd disappear entirely. She recognised the well-built woman instantly. It was Nurse Hopkins, or 'Matron' as she prefered to be called. An almost legendary figure from her nursing school days and very much unforgettable.

Matron made no indication that she recognised Delia however, and frankly Delia wasn't surprised. The amount of student nurses that passed by this battleaxe of a woman must be in the high hundreds. She was very unlikely to remember a quiet, petite, brunette from Pembrokeshire.

"This way please." Matron indicated to a side room.

Delia followed, shuffling her feet a bit, mostly out of habit from her training years. Matron closed the door behind her.

"You're here for an x-ray of your shoulder is that correct?"

"Yes."

Matron nodded crisply, "You'll need to get into this gown and then Doctor will call you."

She thrust a bundle into Delia's good hand and left her to it.

Delia frowned as the door closed behind the nurse. She was still a cow then. Sighing, she attempted to undress herself without moving her shoulder. It was proving rather tricky. Eventually she shrugged on the uncomfortable starch cotton of the hospital gown. The ridiculous thing had ties all the way up the back and there was no chance in high heaven she'd be able to do them all up by herself.

More than aware she was bearing all behind her she sidled carefully towards the door and opened it a crack.

Matron was nowhere to be seen.

Delia huffed in indignation. So much for a compassionate colleague.

Finally she managed to catch the eye of a younger looking nurse and flagged her down.

"Everything alright Miss?" she asked with a cheery smile.

Delia flashed her best dimples. "Not quite everything. I'm in a bit of a pickle with this gown..."

The kind young nurse was tying the final knot on Delia's gown when Matron burst back into the room, without even a hint of a knock.

"Nurse Baxter, what are you doing? You're supposed to be on paediatrics."

"Sorry, Matron, I was just - "

"No excuses girl. Now chop chop. Back to work." she barked loudly. "Miss Busby, when you're quite finished taking up my nurses valuable time with idle chit chat, please wait outside to be called." And with that she was gone in a flash of blue and silver.

Delia rolled her eyes and lowered her voice, "Her bark is worse than her bite, don't worry. Silly old cow."

Nurse Baxter's eyebrows hit the roof, "You mean you know her?"

"She used to be Matron in the old nurses home I stayed in," Delia winked, "She also had a very eclectic taste in music - we'd often hear her singing Dean Martin, offkey I may add, loudly in the shower."

The two women grinned at each other, a shared comradery passing between them.

Another half an hour passed. Delia was beginning to get very cold. There was a horrible breeze flowing up her gown, the likes of which would have been most welcome in the summer months, but right now was more irksome than pleasant.

Finally an elderly man in a white lab coat appeared, glancing from his clipboard to Delia.

"Miss Delia Busby?" he questioned.

Delia nodded.

"Excellent." He put a very cold hand on her back, "Follow me please."

Delia lay flat on the metal slab as the doctor placed the x-ray plate under her.

"Now, lie very still please."

The machine whirred into life and clicked a few times.

"All done. You can get changed now."

Getting out of the gown was a whole lot easier than getting into it, Delia learned quickly as she managed to pull on her own clothes at last. Feeling a lot more human than before, she sat and waited again.

At last a young doctor approached her and called her into his room.

He completed a through physical of her, taking her height, weight and blood pressure. Even requesting a urine sample and finally taking some blood. Feeling thoroughly prodded and probed Delia was finally allowed to sit in the chair opposite his desk.

He flipped through her notes, reading intently. "I see you're a nurse, Miss Busby."

Delia nodded. "Yes."

He looked up and winked at her. "I'm sure male surgical suffered a horrible loss."

Feeling increasingly more uncomfortable, Delia shifted in her seat, hoping he'd just cut to the chase.

"Your GP has referred you back to Dr Hendry which I think is a wise decision, considering your recent seizure. As for your shoulder, I'm happy to say the reduction was successful, however you do have a fractured clavicle. It's not a major break and should heal well without intervention. But I'd advise against any energetic dancing." He smiled.

Delia did not.. It wasn't the best news by any means, but at least she didn't have to stay in hospital any longer than was necessary.

"Having said that, I can advise a more suitable activity to be dinner for two at this new italian restaurant that just opened in kensington. A bottle of the house white and a slow dance might just be what this doctor would order..."

"Thank you." Delia cut him off quickly as she twigged what was happening, "You're very kind, but I'm actually spoken for."

She almost felt bad as the young doctor's face fell. He recovered rather smoothly however and flattened his hair. "Well, he's a lucky chap, I must say."

Delia smiled politely, but inside she just wanted the floor to swallow her up.

He coughed, flattening his hair again. "Anyway, keep your arm in a sling for the next 4 weeks, then we'll give you another x-ray to make sure everything is healing as it should." He studied the notes closer. "As for returning to work, I'm afraid that's out of the question for now, at least until your shoulder fully heals."

She knew the words were coming but it still hurt to hear them.

Meanwhile the Doctor was scribbling something down on a piece of paper. He handed it to her and Delia noted his unattractively sweaty palms.

"Here's a prescription for some more pain relief, should you need it. If you have any other questions, just talk to your GP." He rose from behind his desk and opened the door for Delia.

On her way out he whispered, "and my telephone number is on the back, just in case your chap ends up dancing with someone else."

Delia hot footed it out of the room as quickly as she could.

After she'd returned back to Nonnatus she felt completely exhausted. It was annoying really, all she done was wait around all morning and yet she felt like she'd been through a full night shift on a busy ward. Feeling a newfound respect for some of her patients, she decided the best course of action was to grab a quick lunch and spend the rest of the afternoon resting. With any luck Patsy would be back soon anyway.

She propped herself up with a few pillows and attempted to read her book with one hand. It sort of worked, but within half an hour her eyelids began to droop and she lolled forward, snoring lightly.

Someone jolted her awake by removing the book from her outstretched hand. Eyes opening brearily she blinked as Patsy replaced the novel on the bookshelf.

"You can go back to sleep if you want, I just didn't want you getting neck pain from sleeping at that awkward angle."

Delia shook her head, "It's okay, I should sleep at night anyway, rather than the middle of the day."

"You do realise you're allowed to sleep as much as you want?" Patsy smiled kindly and perched on the corner of Delia's bed. "You're a patient now, remember?"

"Don't remind me." Delia grumbled.

"Sorry." Patsy looked contrite, reaching for the brunette's hand.

Their fingers interlocked together and Delia breathed out a shaky sigh. She could have done with this company earlier that morning.

As if reading her mind, Patsy broached the question timidly. "How was your x-ray?"

"Fine. Well, my shoulder is fine - I have a broken collar bone though. And the young doctor tried to talk me into going to dinner with him - oh and I saw Matron, she's still a complete cow - "

"You have a broken collar bone!?" Patsy exclaimed, "How did we miss that?"

Delia shrugged one shoulder. "Dunno. It's not bad though, I'm just to rest for a few weeks. The doctor doesn't want me working either."

Patsy gave her a sympathetic look, "I'm sorry Deels."

"S'ok. I was expecting him to say it. Can't exactly deliver any babies one handedly. They don't teach us that in training."

They smiled at each other.

"I'm very proud of you, Delia." Patsy whispered, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before."

"Valerie helped, it wasn't just me..."

"And you're incredibly modest too. She told me everything and you were magnificent by the sounds of things. I was being a stubborn mule, so much so that I missed celebrating your first delivery." Patsy looked genuinely downcast, "Can you forgive me?"

Delia leaned forward and pulled Patsy to her with her good arm, planting a firm kiss on her full lips.

"I forgive you."

They came together again and Delia felt butterflies erupt in her belly, as they did every time she kissed the beautiful redhead. Patsy's kisses were tender and gentle, as if she was scared of breaking Delia even more. Eventually they parted and Delia rested her head in the crook of Patsy's neck, sighing contentedly.

"I think I've decided something Deels," Patsy's voice was barely audible, "But I don't think I can do it without your help."

Delia drew back and looked into the redhead's eyes. They were wide, full of intrepidation.

"Anything, cariad. You know I'm here for you."

Patsy smiled weakly and stroked Delia's cheek. "Have I mentioned that I love you?"

"Once or twice yes."Delia flashed her dimples.

Patsy's fingertips traced the dimpled indentation of the brunette's pale skin as she considered her next words.

"I think... I think I might need some help." she whispered, her eyes searching Delia's for reassurance, as if the slightest blink might cause her to crumble.

Delia wrapped her in a close embrace, kissing her neck gently.

"Oh cariad. You do not have to go through this alone, I promise you."

She felt warm tears fall onto her neck as Patsy began to cry. It felt as though someone had ignited her heart with helium. Patsy had finally admitted she needed some support and Delia could not have been more proud of her. She knew how much courage this must have taken for the redhead to form those words and felt herself falling in love with her even more.

Delia kept stroking Patsy's hair gently as her crying eventually subsided. "I know we've both been trying to go it alone recently, Pats - but I think we work much better as a team."

Patsy chuckled lightly and wiped her eyes. "We make a pretty good team, yes."

"So whatever comes next, we face it together?"

"Agreed."

"Are you quite sure, Nurse Mount?"

Patsy found herself eye to eye with a concerned Sister Julienne. Her mouth became dry all of a sudden as she knew the next words out of her mouth would be a fib. And as a personal rule she strived never to tell lies.

"I need some time to sort everything out with my father's lawyers. It's proving too difficult to handle work and financial affairs in tandem," she tried her best to sound contrite.

Sister Julienne seemed to take the excuse with good grace.

"Very well. Do you have a time frame in mind?"

"Two weeks. It shouldn't take much longer than that." Patsy crossed her fingers behind her back.

It wasn't a complete fabrication of facts, she did need some time to sort out her property and monetary situation her late father had left her in, but that was not the sole reason she was asking for time off.

"I'm sorry Sister, I know my attendance to this job has been patchy at best this past year, and I promise once everything is settled I intend to throw myself back in with enthusiasm." She stopped rambling when she noticed the smile on Sister Julienne's face.

"My child, please do not feel you have to justify anything. It is important to take time to grieve."

Patsy gulped. She hadn't even considered grieving as an option. Clearly the Sister knew she had ulterior motives, but thankfully had been incorrect in her assumption.

The real reason Patsy wanted the time away from work was to take care of Delia. She had planned originally for them both to take a well overdue trip to Paris this Spring, but what with Delia's injury, that plan was out of the question. She hadn't yet come up with an alternative but had been racking her brain for the past few days.

The Welshwoman had spent most of the past few days in her room, sleeping off her exhaustion and pain. While this was all well and good, Patsy knew boredom would soon kick in and without work to dig her heels into, Delia would become restless. A respite holiday seemed to be the perfect cure. Just as she was congratulating herself on the idea however, it occured to Patsy she hadn't actually asked Delia if she would be up for it. Chastising herself, she decided to broach the question over dinner.

Patsy had joined Delia for 'dinner in bed' again that night and had even included a small vase with a daffodil in it - her attempt to brighten up the spread of onion soup. Delia had taken the gesture with polite grace.

"It's beautiful Pats, thank you." she brought the flower to her nose and breathed in its scent. "Mmm... reminds me of Wales. Mam used to have hundreds of daffodils in our front garden. They were easy to take care of and would always be a sign that Spring had arrived."

Patsy smiled warmly, glad her gift had evoked such a positive response. She cleared her throat lightly. Delia's comment also led her conveniently onto her next thought.

"Deels... How do you feel about a holiday?" she asked slowly.

Delia paused, a mouthful of hot soup in her mouth. She swallowed. "I can't go to Paris like this!" she indicated to her broken shoulder, "how unromantic would it be walking around the Louvre in an NHS issue sling."

Patsy giggled, "You'd look fetching wearing that thing anywhere."

Delia's eyes narrowed. "Excessive flattery is unbecoming, Patience."

"Oh?" Patsy raised her eyebrow, "What if I were to say you'd look fetching wearing only that."

Delia struggled not to choke on the hot mouthful of soup she'd just taken.

It was refreshing to be able to talk so openly with each other again. It almost felt like a window had been opened and a fresh breeze had flown into the room of their relationship, blowing away all the cobwebs. The sun was streaming in and starting to finally shed light into the darker corners that had perhaps never seen the light of day before.

"So, not Paris then." Delia chuckled, "good, because if I had to eat one more bowl of onion soup, I fear I might turn into an onion."

"There's always the daffodil. That's your desert. Sister Monica Joan has eaten all the battenburg."

"Don't even joke Pats - my best friend from school's brother ate a daffodil once. It was St David's day and everyone in the school got a miniature leek to carry around with them. Everyone apart from the younger children, they got a daffodil. Anyway, at the end of the school day we all ate our leeks and Dai's little brother decided to copy everyone and downed his daffodil. He was violently sick and the school had to have an assembly about not eating flowers."

Patsy's face creased with mirth, "Poor chap!"

"He's a fisherman now, works offshore and hardly gets to see his family." She idly stroked the yellow petals.

"And your friend?"

Delia shrugged. "He joined the army for a while, but I think he's back in Tenby now. I've not seen him in years, not since I moved to London."

They sat in silence for a while, Delia finishing her soup and Patsy pondering how to broach the subject she desperately needed to.

"Do you miss it? Wales, I mean."

"Sometimes." Delia thought for a while. "I miss the fresh air, I suppose. And the quiet. Poplar can be awfully loud sometimes."

"And your parents?"

Delia snorted. "Not so much. I haven't talked to mam in ages. She tried to get me to come home at Christmas but I told her I was spending it with you. They're still not 'on the telephone' but I think she got the hint, her letters have stopped coming recently."

Patsy bit her lip. She knew Delia's relationship with her mother was tense at the best of times, but Delia still had a loving, alive family. Memories of her family were threatening at the corners of her mind and she tried to push them away before they overwhelmed and consumed her.

"Why don't we go there for a bit? As a holiday."

"To Wales?"

Patsy nodded, her breath held in silent expectation.

To her delight, Delia's face broke into the most genuine grin she'd seen in ages. "Oh Pats, that would be so lovely!"

Patsy's fish hook smile came to life and she knew she'd do anything in her power to see Delia grin like this every single day.

"I was going to book us a hotel, but I thought I should ask you first."

"We could stay with my parents - " Delia began, "Or, perhaps not," she finished.

Patsy chuckled darkly. "I very much doubt your mother would welcome me into your home with open arms."

Delia's face crumpled apologetically.

"We could always rent a cottage for a week nearby. And pay them a visit?"

"That might work!" Delia was suddenly looking excited. "Oh! I can show you where I went to school, and where Dai and I made our amazing rope swing..."

"You might be able to see him too." Patsy offered, enthralled by the smaller woman's enthusiasm.

Delia clapped her hands together with glee before abruptly cursing in Welsh and rubbing her shoulder.

Patsy reacted on instinct and was quickly at her side, checking her sling was back in place.

"Sorry. I just got a bit excited." Delia muttered, pain flashing across her face.

Patsy leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. "Don't apologise. I love seeing you happy."

Delia smiled sheepishly.

"So, I take it that's a yes then? We're off on a holiday to Wales?"

Delia barely held back a squeal of delight. SUddenly her face changed to worry. "What about time off?"

"I spoke to Sister Julienne. She's allowed me two weeks off to sort out my financial affairs." Patsy said eagerly.

"You sly fox." Delia giggled.

"On the contrary, Busby - I have every intention of sorting out my financial affairs..." Patsy leant forward and kissed the brunette gently, "but there are other affairs that require my more... urgent attention."

Delia's face turned as hot as the soup she'd just consumed.

Patsy spent the next couple of days on the telephone, booking a cottage and organising transport to Tenby. She could hardly contain her excitement. Sadly, Trixie wasn't there to share in it and the redhead decided to write her a quick letter, with the future promise of a postcard from Wales.

She posted the letter and then proceeded to her next destination. This next part of her itinerary was not something she was looking forward to, but she had promised herself it was necessary and therefore, it needed to be done.

Approaching the front desk of Doctor Turner's practise, she caught the eye of Shelagh and smiled widely.

"Patsy!" Shelagh exclaimed happily. "What brings you here?" she noted the taller woman's lack of uniform.

"I was actually wondering if I could see Doctor Turner?" Patsy asked softly, "I just need some advice about a patient of mine."

"Of course. He's having a quiet day today so I'm he'll see you. Just take a seat and he'll call you."

Patsy sat in the waiting area, her leg jiggling up and down anxiously. She was starting to second guess herself now - perhaps it would have been better to go to a Doctor she didn't know, someone in a different area, a different practise - the other side of London. But, she thought wryly, she found it hard enough talking to strangers about personal matters as it was, a least she knew Doctor Turner and about his own past troubles with mental health. She hated coming under the pretence of asking for advice about an imaginary patient, but she couldn't bear to ask so directly for help. Not yet anyway.

"Nurse Mount!" Called Doctor Turner, breaking into a smile.

Patsy returned it as best she could, following the Doctor into his room.

"Shelagh tells me you have a quirie about a patient of yours?"

"Yes." Patsy's heart beat loudly in her ears.

"Fire away." He said warmly.

"I'm seeing this man on district for hemorrhoids," she began, already hating lying, "he doesn't often leave the house and I starting to believe the reason is more mental than physical."

Dr Turner frowned. "I see."

"From what his wife tells me, I think he was in a prisoner of war camp. It sounds like he's been having disturbing nightmares and flashbacks. I was just wondering if I could refer him to anyone who could help."

Dr Turner pondered her words for a moment. "Well, the logical course would be to admit him to hospital for treatment. It sounds like quite a serious case that would need professional psychologist evaluation."

Panic started to rise in Patsy's chest. "I'm not sure it's that serious. He seems completely well and normal overall."

"Sadly one's outward appearance does not reflect the inner turmoil of one's mind." Doctor Turner said bitterly. "Just because the chap seems fit and well doesn't mean he's managing on the inside."

"I doubt he'd consent to going to hospital." Patsy added, "Is there someone he could speak to, privately?"

Doctor Turner was eyeing her intently and Patsy had a horrible feeling he could see right through her fabrication.

"I have a few strings I could pull, yes. But I'd be reluctant to diagnose or recommend anything without seeing someone in person." His eyes bore into hers. "Perhaps, when your patient has built up some more trust, he could have an honest chat with me?"

Patsy gulped. The temperature in the room felt like it had risen a few degrees.

"Perhaps."

He stared at her sincerely. "Nobody should have to go through any horror alone. Especially horror caused by war."

Patsy nodded stiffly. "I'll tell him. Thank you Doctor."

The outside air hit the back of her throat and yet it still felt as if she were suffocating. Was she that unwell that she needed to be in a mental institution? No - of course not, she was of sound mind, she could make rational decisions about her life, her finances, her relationships... She balled her hands into fists, walking fast, her destination unplanned. There was something wrong, granted, but she was not a madwoman. Wasn't she? The thought scared her more than she cared to admit. The long month she'd spent on the psych ward during training would forever haunt her. Seeing victims of war from those who wouldn't stop screaming, to those who wouldn't speak a word. She wasn't like them though. She had all her marbles, sure she may be one or two short but her brain felt a lot more intact than those of whom she'd witnessed.

Perhaps this whole business needed to wait until after her and Delia's holiday. Besides, there was no point in wallowing in self pity right now, it was time to put Delia's well-being to the forefront. She'd take care of number one afterwards. And she had made progress today hadn't she? Even if it felt like one step forward, two steps back.

When she arrived back at Nonnatus, Delia was looking considerably drawn. The grey tinge of her skin was back and her forehead creased in discomfort. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, supported by Valerie.

"Delia?" she asked, "What on earth happened?"

Delia shook her head forlornly.

"She tried to have a bath by herself." Val said grimly.

"What!?" Patsy exclaimed, "But Doctor Tuner said someone should help you with washing and dressing!"

Delia looked completely rejected. "I know."

"She talked me round, convinced me she was fine." Val said, "It's my fault. I should have stood my ground."

Patsy sighed. It wasn't Valerie's fault, Delia could be devilishly persuasive if she wanted to be. She could also be stupidly stubborn and overestimate her abilities.

"Do we need to call the doctor?" she asked Val.

Delia cut in, "I'm fine, honestly. I just bent my arm the wrong way."

The telephone downstairs sprang into life and Valerie excused herself.

Patsy reached down and picked up the towel that Delia had dropped on the floor. "Come on, I'll help you." She offered Delia an arm, "If you still want to that is."

Delia nodded, looking a little sheepish.

Patsy helped her to the bathroom.

"I have some good news," she whispered in the brunette's ear as she closed the door behind them.

"Oh?" Delia's eyebrows disappeared into her fringe.

"I booked us a cottage. And it has a shower." Patsy began running the bath.

Delia grinned. "That's its defining feature?"

"Amongst other things!" Patsy looked affronted, "I just thought, it'll be easier to navigate than a bathtub."

Delia's smile turned into a grimace as Patsy eased off her sling and helped her out of her pyjama top.

"It's near the chip shop," she added.

Glee filled Delia's features. "Tenby chip shop does the best haddock and marrowfat peas in the world."

"Well, I suppose I'll have to give it a try then," said Patsy loftily, helping Delia to step out of her bottoms and into the steaming bath.

"It doesn't taste good if you soak it in a ridiculous amount of vinegar!" Delia added playfully, "They'll kick you out of Wales for that."

Patsy feigned horror. "Are you saying my vinegar tastes are common, Busby?"

"I'm just saying, anyone who likes that amount of vinegar on their food needs their head examined by a professional." Delia giggled.

The smile disappeared instantly off Patsy's face. She turned away from Delia, concentrating on washing her legs so the brunette would not see the effect her words had had on her.

Delia didn't seem to notice and simply leant backwards, her back resting against the porcelain.

"We can try soaking your shoulder in this warm water," Patsy offered, "it might help ease some of the pain and tightness."

Delia nodded, "That sounds heavenly actually."

After a long hot bath, Patsy tucked Delia up in bed.

"Do you want some dinner?" she asked softly, kissing the smaller woman on the forehead.

Delia's eyes were drooping and she shook her head. "I want a cwtch."

Patsy smiled and moved to lock their door, before slipping into her own pyjamas.

"Painkillers." She reminded Delia quietly, "Then Cwtch."

Delia grumbled but obeyed the command, swallowing the pills and showing Patsy her empty mouth for dramatic effect.

Patsy smiled lopsidedly and joined Delia in her single bed. It was a squeeze and recently Patsy hadn't been sleeping at Delia's side. Mainly in fear she'd cause the smaller woman more injury in her sleep. But, she thought, as Delia settled with her good shoulder towards Patsy, a cwtch was a pretty safe option.

She rested her head in the crook of Delia's left armpit, her hand tracing random patterns on the smaller woman's tummy.

Delia sighed in contentment.

"Pats... I'm really looking forward to this holiday."

"Me too, Deels."

"Oh..." Delia tensed, "I forgot to ask, how much do I owe you, for my portion of the cottage rent?"

"Don't be silly. I've got it covered." Patsy mumbled.

But Delia wasn't having it. She shifted, trying to meet Patsy's eye.

"I can't let you pay for all of it!"

"Technically, I'm not paying a penny for this," Patsy whispered, "it's all coming out of my inheritance."

"But- "

"And that money isn't mine, it's ours." Patsy met Delia's deep blue eyes with her own. "So if we want to spend it on a dirty weekend in Wales, then so be it."

"Pats!" Delia chastised softly, "what would your father say?"

Patsy smiled sadly, "I don't know, but I hope he'd be proud that I'm taking time to be with the woman I love beyond all else."

She lent down and kissed the stunned brunette senseless.

Yes, there may be demons lurking in the darker recesses of her mind, but right now, there was only Delia. And Delia was a guiding light, her angel leading her towards true happiness.