They stayed in each other's arms for a long time. He did not let go of her, would not let go of her until she was ready. Her hand never left his chest. It stayed there, ready, waiting. When morning began to turn into afternoon, he woke to the feeling of movement. His eyes opened and he noticed that she was sitting up.
"Daphne?"
She smiled. "I'd better get lunch ready."
He attempted to rise from the sofa, but she kept her hand on his chest, preventing him from moving. However, he was undeterred. "Daphne, I want to help you."
"Stay here and rest, all right? I won't take long."
"But-."
She stroked his hair and smiled. "Just rest."
He knew that it was pointless to protest so he simply nodded and resumed working on the puzzle. They had been building the rooftops of London. It was how they passed the time between meals. The lunch that Daphne made was simple, yet wonderful. They had sandwiches and ice tea, salad and fresh fruit. At her insistence, she sent him back to the sofa while she cleaned up the kitchen and then joined him on the sofa again a little while later.
They worked on the puzzle in silence, with no agenda. They were just two friends who were trying to make the most of the time they had left together. They worked without looking at the picture on the box, which was certainly helpful in making the time pass by more slowly. Niles was happy that the puzzle was barely a tenth of the way finished. They had a long way to go.
The small, but significant touch of her hand against his made his heart sing. She avoided his gaze as she pretended to concentrate on the puzzle pieces. After another long period of silence she sighed. It was a sound that startled him if only in the slightest.
"Love is so complicated, isn't it, Dr. Crane?"
He was so taken aback by the unexpected sound of her voice that he barely knew how to respond.
"Um…"
"Psychiatrists study this sort of thing, don't they?" She continued. "I mean, don't they have some sort of simple, yet pompous explanation?"
He took the opportunity to lean his face against her hair and inhaled the scent of her cucumber and peppermint shampoo. It was a new scent and yet it was strangely comforting. It was an odd combination, but one that suited her well. He made a mental note to buy some the next time he was out and keep in on hand at the cabin, just in case.
He thought about his answer to Daphne's question carefully. "Well…" He began slowly. "It may not be the most popular theory among professional psychiatrists, but I for one believe that love is controlled by the heart and that it's the actual circumstances and not the heart itself that makes things complicated.
Daphne sighed, indicating that his answer was not the one that she wanted. But he found that he had to finish his thought and did so hurriedly.
"It's difficult to explain the theory of affection." He continued. "Professionals have been trying for centuries, but have never come as close to understanding love as… well, Shakespeare for example."
"The course of true love never did run smooth."
His eyebrows rose and he was both impressed and surprised by her knowledge of Shakespeare. It was the first time he'd ever heard her quote any sort of Shakespeare. He never imagined-
"A Midsummer Night's Dream." He clarified.
She sat up and frowned at him. The unmistakable look of hurt was in her eyes. "I did go to school you know!"
His smile faded. He'd hurt her yet again. "Daphne, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-."
He expected her to be angry; to get up and walk away as she had done before, but she remained where she was.
They gazed at one another and he wanted so much to kiss her; wanted it more than ever before. It would have been the perfect opportunity to bring his lips to hers, wrap arms around her and draw her close. But instead he remained still. However after a few seconds, he simply could not help himself.
He did not kiss her, but instead reached out and brushed a few fallen locks of hair from her forehead. If she had been disappointed that they hadn't kissed, it didn't show on her face. He smiled at her and after a while they both returned the safety and comfort of the rooftops of London.
He knew that he should have been concerned that Mel was in his thoughts less and less, but in fact it didn't bother him at all. He kept the ring in his pocket, removing it only when he changed clothes. He knew as a psychiatrist that it was unhealthy and ridiculous to keep a ring in his pocket that he had no intention of wearing and one that symbolized something that he no longer cared about. But he couldn't bring himself to get rid of it. The ring provided a dose of reality and he hoped that the reminder of it would prevent him from telling Daphne what he could not tell her; the truth.