[A/N: I'm afraid there is a decided lack of footnotes in this particular chapter. It just seemed appropriate to leave them out this time. Thank you again to Fledge, SSC, Bookworm Gal, GeoffG, and Mikell for your wonderful feedback and encouragement. Especially Mikell, who is never afraid to tell me how insane I am. And thank you to those who are following closely. And to my other readers, feedback is always appreciated. :-)]

Chapter 41 - Truth Will Out

"So what shall we do, now that you are going to be not just wealthy, but ridiculously wealthy?"

Lounging against Jonathon's shoulder on the small sofa in her suite, Myria felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her in the last day. The last time she remembered feeling this way felt like aeons past, when she had lived in the residence on Kings Way, when life seemed full of promise and empty of fear.

She rolled her head on her shoulders, feeling the last bits of tension disappear. "I have not given it much thought, Jonathon." She smiled and accepted a waferbread from Jonathon, chewed it quietly and swallowed. Such wondrous flavor. She was sure he was adding slightly more savory ingredients to them now, experimenting to see how much she could enjoy before the taste become overwhelming. "I had thought to gain alternate lodgings for Mister Sharps. It is not good that he is caged. It will not be helpful for his sanity."

She actually felt him stiffen slightly against her. "From what you told me, he is already as insane as can be, Myria."

She shook her head, and he snorted as her hair tickled his cheek. "No. He has improved since I first encountered him. He is more focused." She chewed her lip. "Perhaps I can help him to improve further. It may be I am the only person who understands what he is experiencing."

"I understand what you are saying, but why would you want to help him? Wasn't he one of the ones that tried to kill you?"

"When he was Mister Brown? No, I do not believe that he, as Mister Brown, ever actively tried to harm me." She remembered a room full of clocks, the brightly glowing glass clock in the center. Mister Brown had been there, staring in awe at the result of their efforts. "Though he was as guilty as the others of causing the clock to be finished."

"Still, it's not as if you owe him anything."

Myria sat up and turned to face Jonathon. "Perhaps I do not owe Mister Brown. But he is no longer Mister Brown. He was Mister Filth, and he has suffered for what he did." Her eyes unfocused. "What do we owe any other human we meet? And perhaps through helping him, I can understand myself better as well."

Jonathon stood up and paced a few times in front of her before speaking. "I do see your point, but I don't like it. He still sounds as if he could be dangerous."

Myria smiled, confident. "No. There is no risk. If he wished to harm me, he could have done so the first time he discovered me near Mister Hardlee's offices. Is that not correct?"

He rubbed his face. "Maybe. And maybe he was too surprised to act. Or maybe he didn't even realize who you were. From what you've said, he's so unstable, who knows what he's capable of from one day to the next."

"I am sure, Jonathon. He is getting better."

Jonathon was liking this less and less. He wandered around the room, picking up things and putting them down without really seeing them as he thought furiously. Finally he found himself back in front of the sofa, and crossed his arms. "I want to meet him."

Myria's face first shown joy, then concern edged in. "Can you be spared from the bakery tomorrow? You must promise to not make prejudgments. He is… he is fragile."

Half cracked you mean. "I promise. I'll keep an open mind."

"Very well." She thought for a moment. "If you wish to become friends, I would suggest you bring with you a container of live insects. Preferably crickets."

Jonathon's jaw dropped. "He eats crickets?"

"Of course he does not. The crickets are for the newt. And they must be alive, or the newt will not eat them."

"Newt."

"Yes. It is his pet. It is the one creature that appears to calm him. He seems attached to it. I find it encouraging.

"Pet newt." He rubbed his eyes. "I'll see what I can do."

"Oh, and we shall make him some waferbread!" Myria's face shone with the simple joy of the idea. "It will be inspirational to see another experience what I have experienced. To see his expression at the first taste." Her eyes were wide, pupils enlarged at the memory, and her face flushed suddenly. "It was horrible, but so incredible all at once."

Jonathon felt his breath catch at the sight. I wonder if I will ever really be able to compete with food for her affections. He laughed quietly at himself. "Yes I remember." He shook his head. "How about we talk about something else, like what are you going to do with the rest of the obscenely large amount of money that you now have?"

Regretfully, Myria drew herself out of memory. "Ah. Yes. I would of course obtain more permanent lodgings. But even then, we shall have an excess beyond my immediate needs. What would you wish to do with the excess of our wealth?"

"Well I-" Jonathon felt his knees buckle slightly and caught himself on the chair behind him, sitting down quickly in the process. "Whoa there, Myria. It's not our wealth. It's your wealth, not mine." He raised both hands, fending off the idea.

Myria's brows knit together. "But, Jonathon I would assume you wish to benefit as well."

"But that wouldn't- I mean-" He tugged at his hair. "Look you can't just go giving away your money to everyone."

Myria blinked. "I am not giving away my wealth to anyone, Jonathon. I am sharing it with you alone. What is mine is also yours."

Once, weeks ago, Myria had shown Jonathon a small bag with a small bar of gold that was worth more than the entire bakery. He had felt like it would attack him at any moment. Now she was discussing an amount that was so much larger that numbers no longer had any meaning. He felt the floor drop out from under him. Then he realized what she had really said, and paled even more. "Myria that's… that's a serious thing, what you just said."

Myria tilted her head, considering. "Yes. Correct. It is… an expression of my emotions regarding you."

He couldn't tear his eyes from her face. "I... I… Myria…" his voice cracked and he forced the next sentence out in a hoarse whisper. "Did you just propose to me?"

She looked at him strangely for a moment, then a slight smile spread across her lips. "I am perhaps unsure. I believe I proposed a financial relationship." The smile increased, ramping up into something quite wicked.

The surprise of seeing Myria clearly teasing him broke through the shock at what they were discussing, and he felt some of the tension drain out through laughter. "You really are getting the hang of the humor thing." He stood up and joined her on the sofa again. Took her hand and kissed it, which for some reason made her laugh too.

Laughing turned to more kissing. And kissing turned to a lightheaded giddiness, as if she were not obtaining enough oxygen. Minutes later, she felt a need, a compulsion, to speak certain words.

"Jonathon. I… I believe that I love you."

Jonathon tensed for a moment, but she felt it. When he pulled back, he was smiling. Then he laughed again, but without the authenticity of the last time. "You're just saying that because you're rich, and beautiful, and can have any man you want."

Myria absorbed this, turned it over and looked at it in her head from several angles. "That makes no… oh. You are being humorous by reversing a potential ulterior motive for such statements." She replayed the last few moments in her head, and frowned. "You did not respond to my statement in kind. You instead attempted to distract me." Something in her face changed, making her appear suddenly very vulnerable. "Do you not love me?"

He still held her hand, and squeezed them gently. "How could I not, Myria?" He had meant it as a reassurance, but instead came as an actual question. The silence afterward stretched out.

Myria used the time to consider all the possible reasons, determined the one most likely. "It is because… because I cause you to fear. Is this correct? Do you fear me?"

Jonathon shook his head gently, but it was in awe, not denial. Shame warred with honesty, and other emotions. "It's hard to say."

"And yet, you must."

He sighed, leaned forward, and kissed her gently, then rested his forehead against hers. His eyes closed, and hers followed. "I love you, Myria, I do. I love you. And yes, you absolutely terrify me, too." There, I said it. "I meant what I said before. How could I not love you? You are a wonderful person, and those other things I teased you about." Eyes still closed, Myria touched his face, and felt him smile sadly against her palm, and she mirrored it. She felt her eyes beginning to sting, and kept them closed, trying to fight it. "But I'm afraid too. There are so many things for you to learn, and so many things that could go wrong." His voice cracked, and he struggled a moment before continuing. "And the things you are capable of, if things did go wrong…" His voice trailed off, and she felt him shudder.

"What I did," she whispered, "to you, in the cemetery."

She felt him nod against her. "It was bad."

She felt her eyes fill, tears forcing their way through closed lids. "I am sorry. I would wish I could make it not have happened."

He pulled back, and wiped her cheeks. She opened her eyes and saw his facial muscles struggling to control his expression. "I didn't believe it, you know," he cupped her face, "that you would actually hurt me. I didn't think you could. I thought Susan was just being cynical."

"I am sorry." What could she say? "It was difficult for me to remember, then, what I was. Who I had wished to be. I was experiencing such pain, to the point it was difficult to see the pain of another as being important." She put her hand over his, pressed his to her face, as if afraid he would pull his away. "Even yours."

Jonathon lowered his face. "I just need time. Time to be sure."

"That I will not become a monster?"

"Myria."

She laughed hollowly. "No, it is correct. I fear it of myself. It is good that you are… aware and that you are cautious." Her throat fought against her getting the words out. It is correct." Lies. Lies lies lies. It hurts. It is not good. It is not correct.

Jonathon wanted to tell her that wasn't why he needed time. But it was at least part of it. What he had felt, in the cemetery, had left scars that still needed to heal. So instead he gathered her to him, and they clung to each other, easing their hurts without words, making no promises that they couldn't keep.