Bill sat in the cold office nursing a glass of scotch and sifting through photo album in front of him. A flash of light filled the room before darkening again. Despite it being mid-afternoon the sky was a dark, stormy gray having rained non-stop for two days. It left the house feeling cold and stark but Bill didn't mind, he felt it matched his mood perfectly. Going through the album brought a surge of memories back to him; some he'd rather forget but he felt as if he owed it to her to reminisce.

One particular photo had caught his eye; it had been taken on the day of his graduation from the academy and two weeks before being deployed by the CIA to the Soviet Union. It was the same picture that his father had on his mantel for years; it was his favourite he claimed. Bill had never considered himself photogenic but there was something about this particular shot-he looked so young with a full head of dark hair, his face untouched by the years of stress, his eyes clear from government secrets. And while he had never been naive, he was certainly idealistic and this picture was a clear reminder of those days.

Closing the album he left the office and wearily made his way up stairs. The silence that overtook the house was deafening. It was so different here than in L.A; the nature, the quiet and he missed it all. He made a mental note to come up to Vermont more often, though at the moment he couldn't be sure he would still feel the same afterwards.

As he approached the master bedroom the doctor was closing the door behind him.

"Its time," he nodded. "I'll leave you two alone."

Bill thanked him quietly and paused outside the door. He stood for a few minutes trying to gather strength to enter but realized that strength would probably never come to him and he was just prolonging the inevitable. Pushing the door open he entered the room.

The woman lying in the bed looked so frail before him and he winced. It was hard for him to see her so pale and hollow, only a shell of the vivacious woman he knew and loved. He turned to sit on the chair by the window when he heard her call.

"Bill," she gasped. It was so quiet at first he thought maybe he heard wrong. But when he turned to check, her eyes were slightly open and her hand reached out for his.

Sitting gently on the bed he took her hand in his. "How are you feeling?"

The woman let out a small laugh. "Oh you know-like I'm dying." But seeing at the incredible pain etched across Bill's face she regretted the words instantly. "I'm sorry, that was in poor taste. Bill, we've known this time was coming for awhile."

"I know," he choked out. "I'm still in denial. I just can't imagine living without you around."

"Where is-" The woman was cut off by a sharp gasp of pain and squeezed Bill's hand until the pain had subsided.

"She's downstairs waiting with the doctor," Bill flinched.

"How does she like the house?"

"She likes it, unusual circumstance though."

"Thank you for bring me here to do this," her voice growing softer. "You know how much this place means to me."

Bill nodded. "I wouldn't have had it any other way."

"Bill, I need you to do something for me"

"Of course," he nodded.

"I need for you to marry her. I need to know that someone will be there to take care of you when I'm gone," the woman softly cried.

Bill could only purse his lips together to keep himself from doing the same. He knew death was unavoidable, but he really never wanted to be in this situation he'd grown to refer as hell.

"I promise. But I don't want to talk about that right now," he paused. "I love you."

Smiling the woman replied "I love you too." With that her breathing slowed before stopping altogether.

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Thirty minutes later Bill wearily made his way down to the kitchen. Instantly the doctor and younger woman stood up to greet him. No words were needed as his tired and sad eyes said everything. The doctor grabbed his bag and placed a comforting hand on Bill's shoulder. He had known the Buchanan's for sometime; and this quite a loss. He left the room to tend to his patient leaving Bill and the woman alone for a few moments.

"I made some tea," the woman offered helplessly, her eyes filled with concern.

Bill let out a small laugh and wordlessly pulled the woman close to him. Wrapping his arms around her tightly and pressing a kiss to her head. "I know this week was strange. Thank you for being here."

"I'm glad I could be here for you. Its a beautiful house," she paused. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking we should keep it," he started slowly. "But we should make one of the other rooms the master bedroom. They're smaller but that room to me will always be...hers."

The woman smiled. "I understand-but I meant about funeral arrangements."

"I don't want to think about those right now," Bill sighed.

"Ok, when you do just tell me where you need me and I'll do whatever I can to help."

"Right now I just need you right here. I love you Karen."

Leaning back in his embrace she ran her hands down his face and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. "I love you too. And I'm sorry about your mom."

Hearing the words for the first time hit him hard; and he wasn't sure if it was hearing the words or hearing them come from Karen that broke his resolve, but it was only then that he allowed himself to cry and he held onto her tighter. Running her hands through his hair, she whispered words of love and comfort. And they stood like that for what seemed like forever while the rain continued to pour outside.