Disclaimer: I own nothing.

So, Fred got her drunk, and has now promised to let her see the Sistine Chapel. Let's see how that goes!

Sit back and enjoy!

Love always,

Avoline

Fred watched as she spun slowly, taking in as much of the art work as possible. Her flower printed dress fluttered around her thighs as she spun, and he couldn't tear his eyes from her. Each gasp reminded him that he could easily loose her, that he could wake up to her dead in his arms. So he watched her, memorizing each detail, so that, should he loose her, he can always think back to this moment and smile.

"Oh, Fred, it's beautiful," she whispered, slowly pacing around the chapel. He smiled and took one of her hands in his.

"Almost as beautiful as you," he murmured. Her eyes met his, and he could see the unspoken threat. She hated when he complimented her, or compared her to art. She kept saying she was just an average witch. But she was so much more to him. And she always would be.

"He let them know what he thought with this back wall," she informed him. "Someone about a step or two below the Pope had bothered him, which he hated, and he put as much of what he thought about the whole ordeal into this one wall as he could, which was basically everything." He smiled as he saw a few images that made that much clear. "That guy is the one who kept pestering Michelangelo. When he saw this, he complained to the Pope at the time, who responded with, basically, 'you're on your own.'" He chuckled.

"That's one way to handle it," he commented. "Sounds like he didn't get along with much of anyone." She smiled and laced her fingers with his...

Just before she was hit with a horrible coughing fit.

He placed an arm around her shoulders and lead her outside, stones settling in his stomach. He knew just enough Italian to request a glass of water for her as he lead her to a bench. Yet he still felt so helpless. He didn't know what to do to stop reminders of her illness from creeping up on him. And it killed him. It killed him to think that she could die any minute. It killed him to think that her last days would be spent in pain.

He just wanted her to be okay.

She trembled beneath his touch as she drank the water. Or maybe it was his hand trembling. He wasn't sure. But one of them was trembling, and he was sure it was him.

"I'm okay," she choked out after a few gulps of water. "Saliva went down the wrong pipe. I'm fine, Fred." He felt the weight lift a little off his shoulders. "You'd think I'd learn to be more careful." A smile forced it's way across his face.

"Yep," he answered. "Especially with me as your husband." She giggled at that, and he felt more of the weight diminish. She was still laughing and smiling. Everything was still okay. Maybe she truly had simply choked on her own saliva. Maybe she would be okay. Maybe there was nothing to worry about. She would be fine, he told himself. The lump wasn't as bad as she thought it was.

"Come on," she suggested softly, taking his hand and rising to her feet. "Let's go get some gelato." He followed her willingly, the idea of a cold, sweet treat lifting his mood. He was sure that's why she had suggested it to begin with. She always knew him as well as she knew herself, and he was more than grateful for that.

Why, oh, why had he taken so much for granted?

He watched as she slept, sober and alive. The gelato managed to stay on her stomach, and he felt a little better for that. Even though it wasn't the healthiest thing to eat, it was better than nothing at all. A smile graced her face, and he couldn't help but smile back. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and could very easily be content if the rest of his life consisted of moments like this one.

She hummed in her sleep, and he gently rubbed her arm. If he could just make this feeling last forever. If he could keep her this happy and feeling well. Maybe then everything would be okay. Maybe he wouldn't loose her. They could still have the family she had dreamed of. They could just forget about the scans and the large mass and her ever being sick.

But he knew it was impossible. She could be dying, and there would be nothing he could do about it. He was helpless against the condition, even with all the magic in the world. And it hurt him. It hurt him to know that he couldn't help her. It hurt him to know that he could loose her, no matter what he did. He hated it. He hated everything about it, but there was nothing he could do to change it.

He pulled her closer and memorized the feel of her against him. He wouldn't be able to do this for long; soon it would be nothing but a memory, and that made him ache was dread. He didn't want to loose her, but he knew eventually he would have to make peace with the fact that she could be gone in the blink of an eye.

But not right now.