"Was that...to your liking?" queried Lexa afterwards, stroking her arm softly. She blushed prettily as she posed the question, which only served to enhance her natural beauty and Clarke's appreciation for her.

The blissful haze was just beginning to recede. Clarke was lethargic and somewhat sore but exceedingly happy and satisfied. The continual lust and want that had plagued her for the past month – and arguably longer – had finally subsided.

They were both propped up on an elbow, facing one another, hair dishevelled. Clarke smiled sleepily, leaned forward and kissed the anxious woman before her. "Rest assured, Lexa, it was. Very much so."

Lexa's return smile was so brilliant that Clarke was almost taken aback. The rarity of it was immense. The fact that she possessed quite a fine set of teeth made such a sight all the more breathtaking. There were many people who loved to smile fully, who really should not, lest they frighten children.

Clarke likewise flushed when she asked a similar question. "Was I...are you quite certain I was not entirely abysmal?"

Lexa stared at her fondly before replying, "Quite." Smirking, Lexa tip-toed her fingers down her arm until she was able to link their fingers together, bringing them up to kiss. "Your hands are very talented, Clarke."

While obviously not intentionally done, the similarity of the phrase to that of which Ontari spoke during her recent harassment, brought a dip to the curve of her lips that Lexa could not help but notice with so little distance between them.

Lexa's own smile faltered. "What's wrong?" she asked, squeezing her hand.

"Nothing at all," she said. Deciding it best to swiftly change topics lest she ruin this perfect moment between them, she added, "Where did you go?"

Lexa looked anywhere but at her. "Go? Whatever do you mean, Clarke?"

"Lexa, you left at daybreak." She tilted her head in the direction of the dresser. "You went somewhere and brought that package back with you."

Lexa glanced where she had inclined her head. "Oh, that package. You have very keen eyesight, Clarke. Your vision has yet to be impaired. I am rather envious. Reading glasses can be very tedious to maintain."

Clarke laughed incredulously at her odd behaviour. She placed a hand to her face, and Lexa thankfully looked at her.

Lexa sighed and muttered, "I was planning on making it a surprise but you seem to have found me out prematurely."

The nervousness she was exuding whilst making her way over to the package peaked Clarke's interest almost as much as the sight of Lexa's sleek form retreating. It was the first time Clarke was able to actually appreciate Lexa's fine figure without any embarrassment or mortification. She would hopefully one day have the honour of sketching Lexa in all her glory.

Upon her return, Lexa turned the package over and over again in her hands, eventually with a determined nod holding it out to her. She remained standing there, agitated and nude, and apparently unaware of Clarke's less than innocent appraisal. Clarke tore her eyes away to stare at the package. It was fairly light and fit in the palm of her hand. Without further ado she unwrapped the package to discover a square black jewellery box. Lexa had already bought her a number of items, so she was confused as to why this particular one made Lexa so uneasy and required such secrecy.

Clarke did not wonder for long. As soon as she opened the box, her jaw dropped. A sizeable ring was within, larger even than the one Roan had purchased. The band was simple silver which was just as well since all other scrutiny was lost to the centrepiece. Surrounded by a ring of diamonds, a blue sapphire of impeccable cut shone back at her, reflecting her own inner joy. The weariness that had been settling in dispelled immediately.

Clarke looked up at Lexa, for once not even noticing her nakedness. She was shuffling back and forth, wringing her hands continuously, biting her lip. "I know that we cannot marry," she hurried to say, adorably frowning, "but you mentioned yesterday that you would marry me if you could...so I thought perhaps a ring would be agreeable. Do you like it?"

At a loss for words, Clarke pushed out of the bed, took Lexa's fidgeting hands and wrapped them around her back. Then she hugged her fiercely, skin on skin.

"Yes, Lexa," she eventually whispered, emotion firmly gripping her throat, "I like it. I love it, just as I love you." She kissed her neck. "How could I not? You are both beautiful beyond compare."

After some time of simply holding one another, in which some tears were shed, they went back to bed. Another short bout of lovemaking had them utterly exhausted and unable to keep their eyes open. They slept until late afternoon and want of food roused them. Clarke had all but missed her studio time but she could not have cared less. She wasn't even entirely sure she ever wanted to resume her lessons at that particular establishment.

Once the wait staff had vanished and while they waited for the tea to cool sufficiently, Clarke slipped on the engagement ring and held it up. They admired it in its new location until Clarke said, "I am thrilled by the ring, Lexa, however...how shall I wear it in public without drawing further suspicion towards our already precarious position?"

It was quite obviously an engagement ring, so even if she wore it on her right hand, it would still raise unwanted notice.

"As to that," said Lexa, putting her tea down and standing up, "I have an idea."

She strode out of the dining area and into their shared bedroom. A few minutes later she returned, something firmly grasped within her hand. Lexa opened it to reveal a locket. It was a simple looking thing, nothing worth much notice. Perfect.

"I believe this is large enough to house the ring. You can wear it around your neck and no one will ever be the wiser."

They smiled at one another and then went back to drinking their now sufficiently cooled tea. As she stared at the ring once more, another thought occurred to her. "Lexa...how precisely did you procure this ring?"

"How do you mean?"

"I mean...you are a woman...did not the proprietor find it odd that you were purchasing an engagement ring?"

Lexa smirked. "I had Gustus purchase it for me."

"Gustus?" said Clarke a little nervously. "Do you think that wise?"

"Indeed I do."

"How can you be so certain?"

"Let us just say that he would never willingly betray my trust. He was loyal to my father and he remains so to me. As do all of the staff who wait upon this hotel. I have the utmost confidence in their...discretion. Which is just as well...now that I think of it, you were quite boisterous at one point, Clarke."

Embarrassed, she blushed, and Lexa grinned smugly, proud of her abilities now that she was assured of them. Once the tea was consumed, a servant returned to clear the table and also to remind Lexa that she had an engagement this evening. Clarke vaguely recalled there was yet another event being hosted by a high society type. They were generally exceedingly dull or trivial affairs and Lexa had told her she need not come. She must, if only to maintain appearances, but Clarke had no such obligation. In fact, it was perhaps easier to maintain a facade when she wasn't there. Tonight, however, she decided she would like to accompany Lexa.

Henceforth, a bath was drawn, one in which they shared. The purpose of the bath was quickly forgotten, and by the time it was recalled, the water was cold. They quickly dried themselves and then began the tedious process of finding something suitable to wear. Clarke was having so much trouble deciding between two dresses that Lexa eventually chose for her and went so far as to help her into the outfit, leaving fingers lingering in places that she knew would cause Clarke disquiet. Lexa tied the outer laces of the dress and finished with a kiss inbetween her shoulder blades. By the time they were on their way, Clarke was wishing they had simply stayed put. It would be difficult to maintain control when she was hot and bothered and Lexa was looking as sensual as she was.

The hosts, The Vies, came over to greet them warmly, as did a number of other men and women alike. Clarke clenched her fists every time a woman kissed Lexa's cheeks and fawned over her appearance excessively, and smirked subtly every time Lexa watched the same happen to herself. As soon as niceties were out of the way, gossiping commenced, and it was so rapid fire that Clarke could not hope to keep up. So instead she excused herself and went in search of refreshment. Almost immediately, an older gentleman accosted her and not so subtly glanced at the exposed portion of her bosom while asking inane questions. Clarke proceeded to answer with nonsensical phrases in French - which unfortunately was not that far removed from her actual abilities - and bewildered, the man finally left her alone.

A couple of minutes later a woman approached her. She was elderly, but still quite the beauty. The woman smiled and picked up an entire bottle of wine. Clarke expected her to walk off with it. Instead she began perusing the label.

"Ah, 1843," she said with a strange accent. It sounded a bit mixed. "That was a very good year." She glanced sideways at Clarke. "It was the year I was wed."

"Is your husband here with you tonight?" asked Clarke politely, thankful for someone speaking her language.

"Sadly no," replied the woman, still examining the label. "He is not overly fond of these sorts of affairs, and only attends when he absolutely must."

"I can understand the sentiment," said Clarke truthfully, looking over where Lexa was entirely absorbed in some no doubt fascinating discourse.

The woman looked where she was looking and nodded. "Oh, Countess Woods is here. I suppose I will have to go and say hello."

"You are acquainted with the countess?" wondered Clarke aloud.

The woman glanced back at her and seemingly waited for her to take a mouthful of liquid before saying, "Why yes. She is my niece."

Clarke did her best not to spit it out. She swallowed harshly. "You are Mrs. Hawkins?"

The woman smiled. "I am. And you are?"

"Clarke Griffin," she said through the burn in her throat.

Mrs. Hawkins raised an eyebrow but otherwise didn't react. "I have heard much about you from my son. He was quite taken with you, and seeing you now, I can understand why. Such a pity that your engagement did not pan out." She looked over at Lexa. "There has been a lot of that going on lately." She glanced back to Clarke, "How funny that we should finally be meeting under such circumstances."

Doing her best to ignore the many warning bells in her head, she said, "How is Roan faring?"

Nia smiled, but the light did not reach her eyes. "I wouldn't know. He's gone off gallivanting around the world again. It seems you broke his heart quite thoroughly." Before Clarke could respond Nia continued, "Tell me, Miss Griffin, why did you accompany my niece to Paris?"

Uncomfortable now, Clarke fiddled with the locket around her neck, drawing Nia's attention. She bristled slightly and said, "Where did you get that locket?"

"Oh, um, the countess gave it to me," she muttered, fighting a flush.

"It belonged to my sister," said Nia, somewhat tight lipped. "And our mother before that. How strange that Alexandria would give it to you."

"We are friends," said Clarke, feeling the beginnings of a nervous sweat breaking through.

"Such close friends that you refer to her as the countess to me, her aunt, yet you forsake your kin to come and live with her in a foreign land for an undetermined length of time. How contradictory. How curious."

Clarke had no idea how to respond to the intimidating woman, who clearly did not just happen to be at the same event they were attending.

Thankfully she was saved the effort of responding by another. Once more Lexa came to her rescue. "Aunt Nia?" she said, suddenly beside Clarke, eyes quickly skirting over her anxiety ridden posture before resting on Mrs. Hawkins.

"My dear Alexandria," smiled Nia. "It has been far too long since last we met."

They hugged each other very briefly, as a matter of formality only. They parted and simply observed one another for a time. Finally Lexa broke the silence. "What brings you to Paris at such an undesirable time of year?"

"Undesirable?" responded Nia. "I think not. Winter is the most desirable time of year as far as I'm concerned. I just love the deathly quiet. No chattering birds and other vermin. It's a shame it is nearing its conclusion."

She had looked between them as she said this last bit. Lexa tensed at the remark. On instinct Clarke said something she really should not have. "Oh, you could always travel to the North Pole."

Lexa was a little startled by the comment. It was no wonder. Clarke had basically wished death, or at least suffering, upon her aunt, for few survived those Arctic voyages unscathed, if at all. In fact, the last fools from the United States of America who attempted such a feat were left adrift on an ice floe and starving for six months before being rescued. The misfortune of the Polaris crew, and the suspect death of the captain*, had been highly talked of three years ago by her father.

Nia smirked. "Well, I'm glad to see that you've secured yourself such a lovely companion, Alexandria. Awfully dull to stay in Paris without one."

Lexa's posture stiffened further. "Indeed it is. Have you accompanied Uncle Matthew here on business?"

"Yes, we arrived five days ago." Lexa raised an eyebrow. "I would have paid you a visit earlier my dear, but you know how it is. There is always something else one must attend to. Speaking of which, I believe I've just spotted an old friend of mine." Nia smiled at Lexa. "We are staying at The Inter-Continental. Do stop by when you get the chance. I should very much like to catch up."

With a final glance at Clarke, she departed, leaving Clarke standing there very unnerved. They left soon thereafter, discussing Mrs. Hawkins appearance here in Paris, and the significance of it.

"She is clearly the puppeteer," said Clarke as the carriage rattled along on its way back to the hotel. "Surely you see that?"

Lexa shook her head wearily. "I have frequently had the impression that she does not care for me overly much. But to orchestrate a scheme of petty revenge for grieving her son? I do not know..."

"She has something else planned, I'm sure of it," Clarke continued as if she hadn't heard Lexa. "Ontari's seduction failed to separate us. Your aunt will not stop until she has succeeded." She grasped Lexa's arm. "We must gain the upper hand while we still have the opportunity! I cannot be separated from you again!"

"Don't worry, Clarke. Wild horses could not keep me from you," vowed Lexa, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Whatever arousal Clarke had been experiencing earlier was forgotten and they simply went to bed together without revisiting their former exploits whilst here. In the morning Clarke fretted over Nia's scheme to such a great extent that Lexa felt obliged to accept her aunt's offer of visitation. At least that way they could keep an eye on her.

They sat by the foggy and wet windows of The Inter-Continental as coffee and tea were served, and chatted amicably enough about everything they had been up to since coming here. Then Nia focused on Clarke herself and began asking all manner of personal questions, in aid of discerning her general character, and nothing more. Or so she said. Clarke was quickly beginning to regret coming here. Lexa was apparently just as uncomfortable with this interrogation as Clarke was because she skillfully regained control of the conversation and redirected the questions back at Nia, specifically asking what she had been so occupied with the past five days that she could not find the time to call on her. Her aunt's answer at the party had been decidedly vague and suspect. This time was little better.

"My, but you are curious about my business, Alexandria," said Nia with another of her fake smiles. "It's refreshing that a young woman such as yourself should take such an avid interest in the day to day affairs of her elder. I'm afraid there is really not much to tell. I've simply been gaining my bearings on land after a week at sea."

"So you have not been on Rue Saint Sulpice?" said Lexa, staring at her aunt intently.

"I don't believe so," she replied, folding her hands in her lap. "Why? Is there something of interest there?"

"Only a number of bordellos," said Lexa, calm and collected. Clarke was startled by the direct approach she was employing, though it seemed as though Nia would never give a straight answer otherwise.

Nia laughed. "What an odd thing to bring up, Alexandria. And still odder that you should know this."

"I know this because I found Roan there a number of times."

Nia gave her a dark look and said, "Just what are you insinuating, Alexandria?"

"Exactly what it sounds like, aunt. Your son frequently enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh."

Nia looked on the verge of losing her temper. One more well placed prod would send her over the edge of decorum. "So what if he did? He is a man. It is his right." She glared at Clarke. "And considering how abominably he was treated in England, I hope it was not only Paris he found comfort in the arms of a willing woman."

It was right around this point in time that Clarke became aware of another in the room, a man she had never seen before. It appeared as if he had just come in from the rain and was now eyeing the tense attitude with alarm. Clarke tried to get Lexa's attention but she was far too immersed in the conversation to notice.

"Oh, it was not only women I found him in the company of," said Lexa smoothly.

Clarke had no idea just how much of this discourse was bluff and just how much was fact. Whatever the case may have been, it worked. Nia broke her elegant demeanour. She stood up and yelled, "Shut your filthy mouth! My son is not like that! He is not a disgusting homosexual! He is not like you!"

Lexa smirked in grim satisfaction. "So you finally admit that you know."

"Of course I know," said Nia harshly. "How could I not? It's plain as day that you are in a sapphic relationship," she gestured savagely to Clarke, "with this whore."

"How dare you call her that," said Lexa standing up and facing off with Nia in a barely restrained aggressive attitude. She clenched her jaw. "How dare you send Ontari to assault her!"

"It was no more than she deserved!" screamed Nia.

If the unknown man had not stepped in when he did, it was anyone's guess as to what might have occurred next. "That is quite enough, ladies," he said in an identical accent to that of Roan's. Nia looked rather taken aback to see him there.

"Matthew," she gasped, moving away from Lexa. "You were not to be back for another hour."

"The meeting was delayed," he replied. "Monsieur Delacorte has taken ill. Now," he said, glancing between the three of them, "what the hell is going on here?"

Neither Nia or Lexa would look him in the eye, so it was up to Clarke to explain the situation. She stood up as well and opened her mouth, then closed it again.

"Never mind, miss," he said, waving his hand. "I already heard." Mr. Hawkins stroked his greying mustache a few times before continuing. He looked to Alexandria. "Is this true? Are you a sapphist?"

The tiniest of nods and then in an even tinier voice, "Yes, uncle."

Mr. Hawkins glanced at Clarke and then back at Alexandria. "And you are in a relationship with this girl?"

Lexa's eyes skirted to hers briefly before falling back to the ground. "Yes, uncle."

Clarke and Lexa were both quite surprised by his next question. "And you are happy?"

They looked at each other and despite the circumstances, smiled slightly. "Yes," they both said at once.

He too smiled ever so faintly before looking to his wife. "Well, then, I fail to see what the issue here is, Nia. Don't you want your niece to be happy?"

Nia gawked at her husband, clearly not anticipating such easy acceptance of the situation. Nia jabbed a finger in Clarke's direction. "She ruined your son! After everything he has been through!"

"Opening one's heart to another is always a risky business," he replied calmly. "Roan is a strong man. He will survive."

"How can you condone such immoral and disgusting behaviour, Matthew!?"

"The heart is a fickle thing. We can't choose who we love. As for disgusting behaviour..." he paused as if recollecting his thoughts, "if they are disgusting, then so am I, my dear."

Everyone froze at this uttering, hardly daring to believe the admission. Nia looked like she was having an apoplectic attack. "You're not," she choked, wide eyed, sinking back into her chair when she regained the use of her limbs.

"I am," he affirmed with a curt nod. "I loved a man in my youth, before I met you. I did what was expected, I did my duty." Turning to face a still stunned Lexa, he placed his hands on her shoulders. "You have the courage to live your truth, Alexandria, and I commend you for it. It won't be an easy road to follow, but you have each other," he looked between them, smiling, "and together I am sure you will find your way."

"So our whole marriage has been a sham?" came the subdued tones of Nia.

Mr. Hawkins closed his eyes, sighed and then gave them a look that was quite clear: the rest of this conversation would be done in private. Clarke took Lexa's hand and pulled her away from the unexpected turn of events. She continued to hold her hand even once they were outside of the hotel. There were some graces afforded to them because of their gender. Not many would wonder at two young women holding hands. Eventually Lexa came back to herself and glanced at Clarke and their joined hands.

"Well, that was something," Lexa muttered, to which Clarke grinned and replied, "I do believe that will be the end of her meddling."

Lexa frowned. "I'm not so sure, Clarke. Roan's humiliation is nothing to her own. She may strike back now with even more force."

"Oh, I do not think so, Lexa. For if she strikes us down, we will not hesitate to return the favour." She squeezed her hand. "Mutually assured destruction, if you will."

"I could not betray my uncle in such a way," sighed Lexa. "Not after his interference today. Without it I fear there would have been blood on my hands."

Clarke nudged her shoulder as they continued to slowly make their way to the carriage further along the curved courtyard. "Do you really believe I would have stood idly by as you throttled your aunt in the name of love? I am more than capable of handling you, Lexa." Clarke glanced around, and reasonably assured there was no one watching them out of the many windows lining the mammoth hotel, she subtly squeezed Lexa's derriere. Lexa jumped in fright and then hissed, "Clarke! Someone could have seen!"

"Forgive me, Lexa," she said, not sounding at all sorry, "but I simply can't keep my hands to myself when you display such fiery protectiveness for my benefit." She leaned in close and whispered, "It is fortunate that we have so many beds at our disposal. I intend to wear one of them out today." Clarke smirked at the hitch in Lexa's breath this declaration elicited.

As soon as they reached their carriage, Clarke yanked her inside and began kissing her senseless. The carriage was large enough to allow them a measure of privacy, so that Lexa only protested this action for a few moments. Then, reassured, she fell wholeheartedly into Clarke's agenda. So much so that they were completely unaware of the carriage coming to a stop.

Someone cleared their throat loudly and tapped on the glass of the door. "We have arrived, mesdames," said Gustus gruffly.

Somewhat flushed and mortified, they collected themselves and realigned any articles of clothing that had become askew. Rather than mend Lexa's hair, Clarke simply snatched up an errant hat and placed that on her head, attempting to hide the worst of it. Satisfied enough with their appearances, they exited the carriage and made their way up the six flights of stairs to the top of the hotel. Once alone, Clarke pushed Lexa against the wall of their bedroom and proceeded to undo all of their previous realignments until they were half bare. They were so lost in one another that they never succeeded in making it to the bed...the first time.

Another month passed by in a flash of limbs and heat and secret places only Lexa dared tread. Clarke's mind and body had been opened to an entirely new world of artistic expression, and she ventured there as often as she could. It was hard to fathom how far she had come in so little time. To think she had once been thrilled by the mere touch of a man's lips to her hand. How innocent she had been then. It made her laugh to think of it.

Mr. Hawkins visited with them a number of times during his stay there. Clarke had quite taken a shine to him, just as she had his son. It seemed the apple did not fall too far from the tree where they were concerned. Mid April he came to say his goodbyes, his business having finally been concluded. His wife had made an early return back to New York City some weeks ago, so she was not present for this parting. Whatever Matthew had said to her seemed to have calmed her need for revenge, and they had heard nary a word of her since the day of revelation. Clarke thought perhaps he promised to secure a divorce once they returned home. Such things were not as uncommon as one might suppose, especially for the wealthy. He would not want to long displease his wife in this regard, lest she have a case of loose lips. The Hawkins did not need a second member being admitted to New York City's vile jail cells.

A few days later as they lounged together on the sofa, Clarke in Lexa's arms, Clarke read aloud a short letter from Octavia. Their correspondence had been as frequent as it could be considering their current locales and the amount of labour going into The Sterling's recently acquired farmland, which more often than not left Octavia exhausted and witless.

'Dearest Clarke,

I wish to start this letter by thanking you once again for the wondrous artwork you have sent us these past few months. Whenever I look upon them, I feel as though you are with me, and it brings joy to my heart.

As to goings on here, the soil has been fully tilled and we have begun to sow the seeds of new growth. I found this rather fitting considering my own circumstances. The baby is beginning to make itself known, and Lincoln delights in placing his hand or ear to my belly in an effort to feel the fruits of his loins. He was convinced I was simply pulling his leg until just the other day when he finally felt our child kick most heartily. It is wonderful undergoing this transformation with him by my side. I could not imagine another more kind and compassionate and loving human being to spend my life with, though by the sounds of things, we appear to be similarly matched. It is curious how we have both attracted such kind souls to our own. I only wished that you did not need to hide your love for one another. Perhaps one day you can make it known, and if such a day should come, Lincoln and I will be the first to congratulate you, and damn all those that say otherwise.

Well, Lincoln has finished preparing dinner, and as I am quite famished, I suppose this is as fine a place to end this as any.

Affectionately yours, Octavia'

They sat in comfortable silence until Clarke sighed.

"You want to go back."

It wasn't a question, but Clarke answered all the same. "Yes. I think it's time."

Against her head, Lexa nodded her agreement. "All right." A brief pause and then, "Before we go, there's one last activity I wish to try with you."

Interest peaked, Clarke turned in her embrace, the better to see her features. "And that would be?"

Lexa smirked. "You shall see soon enough, Clarke. For now, let us go for a stroll. My legs are stiff from all this sitting about."

Lexa led her out to a field in one of Paris' many parks. At first glance, Clarke could not fathom the reason for being here, but then she saw quite the sight, something she had only heard tell of, but never seen in person. A hot air balloon. Its majestic reds and royal blues commanded the attention of all those who laid eyes on it. The balloon was massive, expanding outwards and upwards by an impressive amount. The basket by comparison seemed small and insignificant and hardly the sort of thing one would want to place their life in, but place their life in, they did.

Lexa grabbed the ropes and hopped into the basket effortlessly. She then held a hand out to offer Clarke assistance in accomplishing a similar goal. Being her usual self, Clarke attempted to ascend without aid and paid for it by nearly losing her balance and falling several feet backwards. Luckily Lexa's reflexives were fast and assured, and she grabbed onto her hands and helped her into the basket.

"Where is the operator?" wondered Clarke, after the embarrassment had subsided. Lexa just looked at her. "Is there anything you cannot do?" muttered Clarke in awe and some slight irritation.

"There really is not much to it, once it's been set up," Lexa explained as she released the weights and they began to drift off. "The wind does most of the work." Once assured that the balloon was functioning properly, she came over and wrapped her arms around Clarke. "My father was a flight enthusiast. He believed that mankind was destined to take to the skies permanently, so as to be closer to God."

Clarke could understand the sentiment. She had often wondered what it would be like to live among the stars, to be among the heavens. At the same time, if she lived among them, she would not be able to paint them, and that would be a shame. For after female subjects, the stars were her most cherished, invoking something within her that she did not quite understand. Meeting Lexa on a starry night only further served to solidify her place in Clarke's heart.

The sprawling city was breathtaking from this heretofore unknown aerial view. Clarke could see many of the places she and Lexa had shared secret embraces and kisses, and she wondered when next she would see them again, or if she ever would. Her hand twitched, itching to capture Paris' majesty, similar feelings flowing through her as they did that fateful starry night.

Within a short while, everything and everyone was reduced to nothing more than indistinguishable blurs, blending into one another in a symphony of colour. The higher they rose, the more insignificant all of their past and future troubles seemed. And the only thing that mattered was the warmth and unconditional love of the kindred spirit holding her close.

*He was actually poisoned. Kinda funny it was called Polaris too. Their ship basically crashed and burned at the end...

So ending it here because a) I'm tired of writing this fic b) POI is on again tomorrow complete with Shooty goodness which may or may not translate into fic material and I hate leaving fics in limbo for weeks/months on end

I considered having a whole sex shop or lingerie scene or something but honestly I've done the whole lap dance thing with them in another fic, so I didn't really see the point in duplicating it again. Plus it's no fun without an M rating.

Anyway, thanks for reading all the way through! Until we meet again...